


The Archangel Falls

by AEpixie7



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Androgynous Beelzebub, Angst, But I had to redeem him somehow, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Gabriel, Falling from Grace is just horrific, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Legit falling is like straight torture, Like I'm about to be SUPER mean to Gabriel, Self-Harm, She/Her Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Yikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Gabriel is sentenced to Fall for his treatment of Aziraphale during Armageddon, and Beelzebub is faced with a daunting reality- that she might actually consider him her friend. She has to save him from falling into the Pit of Hell or risk losing him forever, and begrudgingly employs the help of a certain angel and demon. A story about discovering who your real friends are, and how redemption might only be waiting on the other side of a fall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】一位大天使的陨落](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739353) by [GlaireG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlaireG/pseuds/GlaireG), [ShanXiang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanXiang/pseuds/ShanXiang)



> Please note the self-harm tag. There will be mention of it in a future chapter, due to Gabriel's dysphoria over becoming a demon. Just don't want anyone getting too far into the story and realizing there is something within it that's a possible trigger. 
> 
> Also- Beelzebub is androgynous female in this work. Uses female pronouns, but doesn't like being viewed as overtly masculine or feminine. Therefore- female pronouns, male titles (Lord, Prince).

Beelzebub paced just outside the revolving door, glancing back toward the escalator that she loathed. The damn thing always seemed to be on the fritz, and no matter what Maintenance did, it could never be trusted. You could almost always count on it to take you down but the trip back up was always a pain in the ass. On more than one occasion, she’d found herself trapped halfway up, or worse, backsliding out of control and having to leap off at the end to avoid a spill. It was humiliating, especially when her inferiors hid behind corners, sniggering at her lack of grace (as if any demon possessed an ounce of grace, and she’d like to see those idiots try and do better, thank you very much). She growled in the general direction of those cursed stairs, her scowl wandering in equal measure over to its pristine and functioning counterpart. 

She felt an immediate itch to just jump on the stairs to the right, if only to see how far she'd get. And the looks on those dumb angels' faces when the Prince of Hell came strolling in like any Tuesday morning. 

She willed into existence some semblance of “normal” attire as she lit up a cigarette and sucked down the first drag. To her, the outfit was functional and appropriately threatening, but to any human passersby, it more resembled something you'd find at the estate sale of an ex groupie for The Cure. 

Even clad in so much leather, she felt exposed. The flies that usually followed her around Hell never remained when she went Topside. They were smart. They knew what humans were capable of. She frowned as she found that one had remained, appearing stunned and clinging to the lapel of her jacket. She urged the tiny insect onto her fingernail, cooing at it softly as she repositioned it safely onto her shoulder. “Sorry little one. Looks like you're along for the ride,” she said, watching its wings tremble in the light breeze. She had never named any of the flies before, but none of them had ever been brave enough to follow her to Earth. This valiant soldier deserved a name. _Moloch,_ she decided. 

She took another healthy drag from her cigarette as Moloch made himself comfortable under her coat collar. She realized she missed the rest of them- their familiar buzzing. _Satan willing_ this would be a short trip. 

She hailed a cab, entirely oblivious to the nervous glances the driver kept issuing her in the rearview mirror. 

“Int’restin hat ye got there,” he mumbled, and she grunted in response. 

“Thanks, it was a gift.” 

_From me. To me._

“Here'zzz the address,” she barked, thrusting a handwritten note next to the driver's face. He took it gingerly and unfolded it, shooting her a quizzical glance before shrugging and thrusting the shifter into drive. 

“Alright, miss. Buckle up.” 

“Don’t call me mizzz,” she snarled. She did not buckle up. 

*** 

Crowley grinned as he glanced up from the chess board, soaking in the utterly bewildered scrunch of Aziraphale’s nose. 

“Checkmate,” Crowley said, leaning back and perching an ankle over his knee as he took a confident sip of his wine. 

“Blast,” Aziraphale whispered, scratching his head. “I could've sworn I was winning a moment ago. Crowley, you didn’t cheat did you?” 

“Oh, angel, I’m offended. I wouldn’t do such a thing to you,” Crowley said with a smile, knowing that Aziraphale _had_ in fact been winning, and when the angel turned to pour another helping of wine, Crowley had simply swapped all the colors of the chess pieces. 

“Well that’s it then. Good game,” Aziraphale said, tipping his wine glass and sipping it gingerly. 

Crowley smiled, blinking several times against the moderately obscene amount of alcohol in his system. 

“Care to go for a drive? ‘S a nice night, could go for a walk at St. James…” he suggested, watching Aziraphale waver drunkenly in his chair. 

“Crowley you're in no state to drive…” he fussed, tucking away the chess pieces into a wooden box. 

“I could sober up, you know,” Crowley said, absently waving away a fly that buzzed in from nowhere. 

“Oh, no, don't do that, I’m having quite a nice time. Let’s play another game, shall we? Cards? Backgammon?” 

Crowley cringed. “Nobody plays backgammon anymore angel.” 

“Well then you come up with something, I'm too drunk for this,” Aziraphale giggled, the fly now buzzing around his face. He huffed out an annoyed breath, shooing the bug away. Crowley watched it buzz around out of Aziraphale’s reach, and slowly his grin faded. He sobered up without a second thought and stood, following the fly with very snakelike intent. 

“Crowley, what… are you doing, did you sober up without me? That’s rude you know…” 

“Quiet, angel,” Crowley said, continuing his stalk through the back room of the bookshop, stopping when the fly landed on the doorframe. He took a deep breath in, only just noticing a certain demonic scent now that his senses weren’t clouded with alcohol. He turned and scoured the room, finding no other evidence of any kind of presence. 

When he spoke, he raised his voice, as if there were someone out in the main shop who needed to hear him. “Aziraphale, have you got a fly swatter?! Let me just take care of this pest for you!” he shouted, Aziraphale turning and staring at him in utter bewilderment. “Yes of course, Crowley, it's just there, behind the counter. But why are you shout…” 

He didn’t get a chance to finish his inquiry, because Crowley had fetched the fly swatter and in the same moment, found himself thrust against a wall by a very quick, black shadow. 

“ _Harm my fly and I'll harm you,_ ” Beelzebub snarled, her hands fisted in Crowley's lapel and lifting him off the ground. 

Aziraphale jumped up from his chair, immediately sobering up, and ran from the room. Crowley extended his claws, wrapping his fingers around Beelzebub's wrists and pressing the sharp tips to the pulse point on each wrist, a deep growl emitting from his throat. 

“Beelzebub, what a surprise. I haven't killed a demon in a bit, was just starting to get the itch again…” 

Beelzebub's eyes glowed red and all of her teeth dropped into razor-edged fangs. She opened her mouth to either speak or bite, he couldn’t be sure, but suddenly both of them withdrew with a whimper and a hiss as Aziraphale approached, holding a lit candle and a Crucifix. 

“Aziraphale, what the hell are you doing?” Crowley hissed, tears forming in his eyes as Beelzebub doubled over and gagged next to him. 

“Well I _was_ attempting to exorcise a demon…” 

“ _I’m_ a demon, ya moron,” Crowley spat, and Aziraphale glanced down at his candle and Crucifix, then back up to Crowley. “Right. Apologies,” he uttered, blowing out the candle and tossing the Crucifix far behind him. Crowley rolled his neck to relieve the tension the Crucifix had caused, then glanced over at Beelzebub. She straightened, her teeth returned to normal, before her eyes darted between Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley cocked his head curiously as he saw something in Beelzebub that he'd never seen from her before. 

Fear. 

“Well I guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Beelzebub, you are not welcome in my bookshop, so if I may insist…” 

Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale's chest, stopping him as he made to approach Beelzebub. 

“Hold up. Why're you here, Lord Beelzebub?” Crowley asked, and her eyes widened. “And more importantly, why're you here _alone?_ I thought I'd made it perfectly clear that I should be left the Hell alone, and if you changed your mind on that particular point, I really would’ve thought you'd bring backup.” 

Beelzebub twitched, her eyes still darting between the angel and demon before her. She swallowed hard, her lone fly buzzing over and landing on her shoulder. She reached up in what could only be described as a moment of self-consciousness, and tucked the fly safely under her collar. 

“Well…” she fidgeted, looking very uncomfortable indeed, before continuing. “You’re right. If I'd come to destroy you, I most certainly would’ve brought an arsenal, and I most _definitely_ would’ve succeeded,” she attempted to sound threatening, but the way she kept avoiding any eye contact detracted from the conviction in her voice. 

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley, and they shared a moment of confused silence. 

“Well then… why…” Aziraphale stumbled, but Beelzebub interrupted him as if the words had been trapped on her tongue like a bite of overheated food. 

“It’s Gabriel!” she barked, taking a deep breath and turning away from her adversaries, pacing the bookshop with agitation. 

“ _Gabriel?_ ” angel and demon said together. 

“Yes. He's been on trial for…” her eyes darted back to Aziraphale, before she continued her pacing. “Crimes against a Celestial…” she said, but was cut short by Crowley's obnoxious laughter. 

“Serves him right, that prick! Oh that is _rich_ I can’t even believe it! I never put much stock in Heavenly justice but _Christ_ I wish I could be there to see the look on his face…” he laughed, glancing at Aziraphale and smacking his arm as they both chuckled together. 

“It’s not… no it can’t be. Is it… for what he did to…” Crowley straightened, pointing at Aziraphale, and the cringe he received from Beelzebub was all the answer he needed. He guffawed once again, gripping Aziraphale's coat sleeve to steady himself. “Satan _help me_ I might just die of laughter! Aziraphale, you realize what this means? They're trying him for crimes against _you_ and they’re still too frightened of you to call you as a witness! Oh I’ve really outdone myself…” he trailed off, realizing he didn’t want to reveal their little body swap in front of Beelzebub, and sniffed once, trying to compose himself. Aziraphale seemed amused by their little inside joke, but his smile faded rather quickly as he noticed Beelzebub pacing the bookshop angrily. 

_Damn compassionate angel_. Crowley thought. _Even has sympathy for a demon_. He swallowed as he realized the stupidity of that thought. 

“Beelzebub,” Aziraphale said, approaching her and reaching for her elbow to stop her pacing. She snarled, backing away from him and bumping into the sofa, before she realized how frightened she must look. She straightened, and thrust her jaw up in forced composure. 

“Apologies. Didn’t mean to startle you. If… if Gabriel is on trial for his crimes… what does that have to do with you? And why… are you telling _us?_ ” Aziraphale asked, and once again Beelzebub's eyes darted from the angel to Crowley. 

“I… well… his trial has been going on for weeks and I haven’t been able to reach him recently. There's been… stirrings Below. Whispers. They say the Pit will open and how it's hungry for… _fresh meat…_ ” she said, stalking away from Aziraphale and approaching Crowley. "I just don't see why he should face repercussions for only following orders. It's not fair." 

Crowley snorted. "Welcome to God's Great Gameshow, Lord Beelzebub." 

She sneered. "That's ridiculous. I'm not being punished for my..." her eyes looked Crowley up and down like a piece of spoiled meat. " _Subordinate's_ idiocy. Why should he?" 

Her eyes wandered back toward Gabriel's subordinate idiot. 

"Lord Beelzebub, if I may... and please don't take this the wrong way..." Crowley said, tossing a smug grin Aziraphale's way, with all the air of one who was about to drop a zinger of a Shakespearean insult. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually care..." 

"Crowley I've always wanted to test a little theory of mine... just how many fliezzz would it take to eat out those pretty eyezzz of yours? If you'd like to become exhibit A, by all means, _please_... Finish. That. Sentence." 

Crowley's grin faded rather quickly, and he took one measured step back from Beelzebub. "Right. Yeah. 'Course. Apologies, Lord." 

She glared at him for quite a while, then glanced between the two of them. “You do realize… if he's convicted and sentenced… he'll be the first angel to fall since… well since _the_ Fall,” she looked to Aziraphale, and back at Crowley, and upon receiving only blank stares, she continued, albeit a bit louder to get her point across. 

“Gabriel. The Archangel. If he falls… Hell will _tear him apart,_ ” she urged. She clearly didn’t expect Crowley's reaction, because she squeaked in surprise when he rushed forward and stopped mere centimeters from her face. 

“And he'll deserve it. He can fall straight to the ninth ring and _drown in the tar pits_ for all I care.” 

Aziraphale clearly didn’t expect that kind of menace from him either, because he approached, gently touching Crowley's shoulder and looking at him with concern. Crowley straightened and backed slightly away from Beelzebub, shocked that Aziraphale didn’t feel the same. But then he remembered the words Gabriel had said to him, when he was hiding in Aziraphale's corporation. If they hadn’t figured out the prophecy, those would have been the last words the angel would have ever heard. Words of cruelty and hate. He'd never had the heart to tell Aziraphale what Gabriel said while he was up there. 

“Crowley, I think perhaps… you should take a breath… and think about this,” Aziraphale said cautiously, and Crowley tried to force his anger back into its container, though it was like trying to shove Pepsi and Mentos back into a liter. 

“As much as Gabriel and I… had our quarrels, perhaps you can see the common ground here. Beelzebub came all the way up here to help her friend…” 

“Gabriel izzz _not_ my friend!” Beelzebub snapped. “He does what his boss tells him to, and so do I. We stay out of each other's way. And when we thought we could work together at the end, fulfilling our mutual goal… we did. It's just... buzzzziness." 

"No that doesn't sound at all familiar,” Aziraphale said, deadpan. Beelzebub _glowered_. 

Crowley felt like he had to extricate all the oxygen in his lungs to keep himself from throttling the both of them. 

“So…” he said, slowly, with forced calm. “ _Lord_ Beelzebub… why _did_ you come to us?” 

She considered him, then smiled a very strange smile. “Well… if the plan izzz for Gabriel to fall into the Pit… then I need a couple of idiots who have experience foiling plans.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Shit. Fuck. _Ass,_ ” Beelzebub cursed as she realized the escalator was slowly grinding to a halt halfway up. She hauled a leg back and kicked the stair in front of her, hissing in pain as her toe protested. 

“Now izzzz not the time you pathetic, useless piece of RUBBISH!” she screamed, sighing as she glanced back down behind her. Upon seeing the coast was clear, she cupped her hand over where Moloch was clinging to her jacket and rushed up the remaining frozen stairs before they could start sliding backwards. She couldn’t believe she'd slipped out unnoticed, there was no way she could make it Topside if some dim-witted demon found her here and started questioning why the Prince of Hell had made a b-line for the exit when the news came down. 

An angel was going to fall today. 

Of course none of them knew _which_ angel. They probably all assumed it would be Aziraphale, after he'd squashed their chances at winning the Great War, but regardless, they were absolutely foaming at the mouth at the chance to drag a freshly fallen angel down into the pits. She'd thought she had more _time_. 

She had obtained a motorbike after her last trip Topside, strictly due to her desire to avoid any more cabbies. The bike was much faster, anyhow, and she loved the way it buzzed as she weaved quickly through traffic. 

She parked the bike on the sidewalk in front of the bookshop, much to the chagrin of several pedestrians. Normally she would have given them all a swarm of flies for shouting obscenities at her, but she was in far too much of a rush. 

“It’s all gone tits up, angel!” she shouted as soon as she entered the bookshop, and several customers jumped, giving her a reproachful glare. 

“UH I'm terribly sorry but we're closing,” Aziraphale muttered quickly, removing several books from customers' hands and shooing them toward the door. 

“But you’ve only just opened!” 

“Yes and NOW WE'RE CLOSING, BYE BYE!” he waved at the few stunned customers out on the sidewalk and slammed the door, throwing the latch and pulling the blinds down. 

“Beelzebub, you can’t just come in here like that and…” 

“It’s fucked, it's all fucked, angel,” she blundered, pacing in front of Aziraphale and nervously pulling at her hair. 

“Please don’t use that kind of language, and _please_ stop calling me that.” 

Beelzebub halted her pacing, looking up at Aziraphale with confusion. “You’re an angel, aren't you? What else should I call you, _aardvark?_ ” 

Aziraphale seemed unnaturally flustered by that remark. 

“Yes, I am, but _Aziraphale,_ if you don’t mind and I do hope that…” 

“DAMMIT AZZZZIRAPHALE! Gabriel izzzzz going to fall today and you're arguing with me over SEMANTICS?” 

Aziraphale quieted, folding his hands in front of himself. “He… he is?” he asked quietly, though Beelzebub seethed at the hint of a smile on his lips. 

“You never wanted to help me, did you? You just wanted someone who wazzzz still connected to the Powerzz that Be to feed you information. So you could keep tabs on your former bully and snigger at him when he fallzzz. Well guess what _angel,_ ” she spat the word as if it were a curse. 

“That’s not very angelic of you.” 

She turned and exited quickly, leaving Aziraphale to huff out a breath and glance nervously around the bookshop. Time to make a call. 

*** 

The building that housed the entrance to head offices, or ‘The Tower' as most celestials referred to it, had its own special defense mechanism. To a human, it looked like any old corporate office, with glass windows and countless floors reaching toward the clouds but not _actually_ extending up into the heavens. To the human eye, it had a roof, and also a multi-level parking garage down below- not at all a ringed pit that spun slowly and echoed with the screams of tormented souls. Nope. Just an ordinary parking garage, and those screams were most certainly tires. 

Beelzebub chewed her lip and stared up at the clouds where the building faded away, Moloch buzzing nervously around her head. “Shit, shit, _shit,_ ” she whispered to herself, several pedestrians giving her a wide berth. She glanced at the bank clock just beyond the Tower, and let loose a much louder “Shit!” 

11:53. And Gabriel was to fall at noon. 

She didn’t know what she'd expected. She couldn’t very well march into Heaven and vouch for Gabriel. A demon's personal reference was worth about as much as a parachute to a drowning victim. She didn’t even _like_ that pretentious shit of an angel. _Gabriel._ Bloody git. She'd only ever communicated with him in passing. Sure, in passing over the last few _centuries_ but who hasn’t? Everyone knew Ligur and Michael kept regular tabs on each other. It was all in the name of healthy competition. It boosted moral, anyway, when the demons knew they were getting inside information from Above. And then when the Apocalypse was set into motion, Gabriel had been nothing but cordial. _Helpful_ even. They had wanted the same thing- to set the war into motion and give their ranks a chance at eternal glory. They hadn’t really thought far enough ahead to consider what would’ve happened had they actually met on the battlefield, clad in celestial and cursed armor but hey, burn your bridges when you get to them. All she knew was that Gabriel had done exactly the same thing she had. Stuck to the Plan. And now he was facing the worst possible thing that could happen to an angel. His devotion to the Great Plan had gotten him damned. Why? She'd spent too many millennia after The Fall asking that exact question. And here she was, six thousand years later, staring up at the Heavens and asking the same damn question. God really _did_ work in mysterious ways. Bloody _annoying_ ways. 

She glanced back at the clock. 11:57. 

'Relieved' would not exactly be an accurate way to describe her feelings upon hearing Freddie Mercury belting _Hammer to Fall_ behind her. ‘Peeved’ was a bit closer to the mark. 

“Three minutes to spare? How kind of you to be so punctual. Did you bring me a coffee?” she snarled as she rounded on her heel, watching one smooth demon and a pansy of an angel approach from the car that apparently hadn’t stopped singing. 

“Well don’t look at me, I’m just here for the show,” Crowley drawled, miracling up a lawn chair and a bucket of popcorn and plopping into it, Aziraphale giving him a reproachful look. 

“He’s the one who's apparently just got a conscience after six millennia,” Crowley said, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth and smiling sweetly up at the angel. 

Aziraphale seemed to want to reprimand the demon, but seeing as how it was now 11:58, there simply wasn’t time. 

“I _am_ sorry Beelzebub. You were right. What I did was… not very angelic. I _was_ using you to get intel on Gabriel. But you must understand…” 

“ _No_ due respect, Aziraphale, but can we do this later? I’ve only got one minute left and _I have no clue what to do!_ ” she shouted in a panic, spinning back around as the Pit-NOT-a-parking-garage began spinning much more rapidly, burping flames and steam. 

She ignored the angel behind her, and ran full speed toward the Pit, sliding to a halt at the edge and looking down in horror. She was vaguely aware that both Crowley and Aziraphale had approached on either side of her, but her eyes were glued to the sky as thunder rolled and black clouds gathered around the top of The Tower. 

“Beelzebub, it's too late to do anything about his fall,” Aziraphale said, as gently as possible. 

“I know.” 

“He’s… he's damned.” 

“I know.” 

“Well then why do you have that scheming look on your face?” Aziraphale asked, and Beelzebub couldn’t spare the effort at present to be amused. He sure was a perceptive bugger, that angel. 

“I'm going to catch him,” she said, eyes still glued to the nightmarish sky. 

“I’m sorry, you're _what?!_ ” Crowley shrieked. 

“I'm going to catch him. Before he reaches the Pit. If he falls into the Pit he'll spend the rest of eternity being torn to pieces. I'm going to catch him.”


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel had never truly felt _fear_ before. It just wasn’t something he even thought himself capable of. Like the Apex predator of the angels, Gabriel was above such things. But as he approached the edge of The Tower and lightning clashed overhead, he felt it for the first time. Fear that made his hands shake and his legs feel like they might collapse if he took one more step. Fear that made his wings clamp tightly against his back as he spun around to face the angels he _thought_ were his friends. 

“Guys! Come on! This has been a real… kicker of a practical joke but you can’t be serious. You all were there with me. You followed the Plan just like I did. You've gotta say something…” his throat closed up as Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon stood with their hands folded in front of them, entirely pitiless. 

“Sandalphon! Buddy!” he appealed to his wingman, his tongue feeling suddenly dry when Sandalphon rolled his eyes. “ _Please,_ ” he whispered, desperately seeking any mercy at all in the eyes of his friends. 

“IT IS NO USE GABRIEL!” the Metatron bellowed, making Gabriel jump and flinch closer to the edge of the Tower. “YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND GUILTY OF CRUELTY AND HEARTLESSNESS, THE LIKES OF WHICH HAVE NEVER BEEN WITNESSED IN AN ANGEL OF YOUR RANK.” 

“Then demote me! I mean you can’t be _serious_ with all this! No angel has fallen since... since _the_ Fall. I haven't done anything _wrong!_ Look I'll... I’ll start at the bottom! Just a regular old angel. A paper pusher. I can… learn to be better…” he tripped over those foreign words. Even he didn’t believe them. 

“YES. YOU WILL START OVER. AT THE BOTTOM. THE BOTTOM OF THE PIT.” 

Another bolt of lightning cracked the sky open and the wind whipped against his wings, loosing a few feathers and stealing them away in a whirlwind. 

“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” Sandalphon said, approaching and placing a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. His heart skipped a beat as he considered that Sandalphon might actually feel _bad_ for him. 

“We’ve got a deadline to keep,” Sandalphon sneered, gripping Gabriel's shoulder and spinning him, shoving him to the edge of The Tower. The wind pushed the clouds apart for only a moment, and he could see the Pit far, far below, swirling with Hellfire and darkness. 

“THE HOUR IS UPON US. LEAP, ANGEL. FOR YOU MUST FACE YOUR PUNISHMENT WITH HUMILITY AND…” 

“ _Please!_ Michael! Anybody!” His voice cracked as he turned back to face them and fell to his knees. He'd never felt so humiliated in his entire existence, but the choice was clear- kneel and beg for a moment in Heaven… or kneel forever in Hell. 

“If I’m guilty, then so are all of you!” 

Sandalphon's eyes widened as he glanced nervously back toward Uriel and Michael. Without another word, he placed an open palm on Gabriel's chest and _pushed_ … 

*** 

“They’re late. Why are they _late_ angel? Doesn't Heaven work on strict deadlinezzzz?” 

“Heaven, yes. Gabriel, no. And _please_ don't call me 'angel,’” Aziraphale snipped, smiling at Crowley when he tossed him a questioning look. 

“Bugger this I'm going up,” Beelzebub said, removing her leather jacket and dropping it to the ground, careful not to jostle Moloch. She crouched slightly, preparing to materialize her wings, but Aziraphale tutted at her. 

“Ah-ah, the humans can’t see your wings. The Tower has a defense system but you don't. Crowley, can't you freeze people? The way you did to that nun?” 

“I’m not that powerful, angel, I can’t freeze all these people. That would take…” he rocked back on his heels, glancing nonchalantly at Beelzebub. “A Prince or something.” 

Beelzebub rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue over a canine in annoyance, the action alone sending every human within a few kilometers' radius into a state of incognizant limbo. 

Perfect timing, it seemed. Just as Beelzebub unfurled her massive black wings, a crack of thunder accompanied the splitting of the Heavens, and there was Gabriel. His wings were visibly burning, even as he thrust them desperately in a futile attempt to catch himself. 

“Beelzebub, you realize how daft this is, right?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes darting from her and up to the falling angel. 

“Yep. No one's ever accuzzzed me of being intelligent,” she snapped, her fingertip tapping against her thigh as she tried to time her jump. She'd never be able to catch him outright- the force of his fall would drag them both into the Pit and then everyone Below would have seen what she'd done. If she could time it right, she could fly straight across the Pit and knock Gabriel to the ground before he reached it. And if she was fast enough, no one Below would be able to tell it was her. 

“Well… then at least let us help you…” Aziraphale said, unfurling his wings and looking hopefully over at Crowley. 

“Nuh-uh angel. Don’t volunteer me for this. I'd rather Gabriel burn where he belongs,” Crowley said, tucking his hands into his pockets and backing away from the both of them. 

“I don’t want your help anyway, traitor. You either, Aziraphale. You could have helped me avoid this situation entirely and you chose to be petty. If you want something done right,” she tossed a glare in Aziraphale's direction, then knelt like a sprinter. “Do it yourself.” 

She pushed off the ground hard, thrusting her wings and flying as fast as she could across the Pit. She choked as she collided with Gabriel, the smoke from his wings filling her lungs and making her gag. Her flight path fell significantly faster than she'd anticipated as she struggled with his dead weight, her wings screaming in pain as she tried to climb. The far wall of the Pit seemed to sear hotter in preparation for its next meal, and she swore she could hear it laughing at her. She could feel Gabriel slipping out of her grasp, and she screamed as the muscles in her wings started to pull and tear from the exertion. She gritted her teeth against the pain as she pushed through it, the wall of the Pit mere meters away now, the heat of it burning her cheeks. She thrust her wings down _hard,_ hearing several sickening _pops_ of bone, before she barely cleared the far edge of the Pit and hit the ground hard. She skidded out of control, her wings folding up as she lost her grip on Gabriel, his entire body still smoldering as he slid across the ground far away from her. 

The pain finally caught up with her, and her legs collapsed when she attempted to stand. She tried again and failed, growling at her own stupid body. A hand grasped her elbow and pulled her up, the overwhelming _rush_ of comfort that pulsed from that touch almost making her pass out. The broken bones and torn muscles in her wings mended, and she gasped as involuntary tears rolled down her cheeks. She glanced over and found Aziraphale, his hand still resting on her arm and flooding her with healing energy. Something in her chest echoed a very strange cry. 

“Thank… thank you…” she stuttered, watching as he slowly withdrew his hand. He said nothing, merely nodded. She reached over and rubbed her elbow where his hand had been, feeling somehow violated but immensely grateful. She hadn’t asked for his help but… she couldn’t bring herself to be angry. She hadn’t felt that much peace and comfort since before the Fall. 

Aziraphale sighed as Crowley sauntered up behind him, his hands still tucked nonchalantly in his pockets. They shared a moment of pained anticipation, before turning toward the downed Archangel. 

Gabriel had pushed himself weakly up onto his hands and knees, and he choked, spitting up blood and ash. His wings draped at awkward angles on either side of him, their feathers entirely burned away and blood oozing from the flayed skin that clung to the many broken bones. He rocked back on his heels, so he was kneeling on the concrete, and brought his hands up in front of his face, his cheeks smudged with soot that mingled with his tears into a greyish smear. His powder blue suit was singed at every edge, and from the tip of his fingers emerged long, grotesque black claws. He sobbed at the sight of them, then let loose a gut-wrenching scream, punching a hand down into the concrete and intentionally breaking the bones in his hand. He collapsed forward, another pitiful sob muffled into the ground. 

Beelzebub had never known a demon to feel pity. She wouldn’t be able to recognize the feeling even if she had. But she _did_ remember a peculiar sensation immediately after her own fall. Looking around among the barren wasteland that would eventually become Head Office, and seeing thousands upon thousands of angels burning with her. Their screams suffocating from the smoke in their lungs. She remembered the smell of burning feathers and flesh, and the all-encompassing _terror_ of looking upon the horrific creature she'd become. She could still feel that ache of when she'd looked up at the Heavens and realized she had never been- and would never be- _good enough_. She remembered wishing God had just destroyed her altogether, _that_ would have at least been merciful. She remembered never wishing that kind of torment on anyone, no matter how much she loathed them. She assumed that was what pity felt like. 

She approached Gabriel and knelt next to him, taking care to avoid his battered wing. She then did something she'd never done, not once in her entire demonic existence. She tried to be _gentle_. 

“Gabriel?” she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder. He whimpered pitifully, flinching away from her touch, then turned his head weakly, his indigo eyes unfocused and bloodshot. He blinked in disbelief. “Beelz?” 

Her stomach churned at her nickname, one that he'd once called her as a joke and had simply stuck because she'd hated it and he enjoyed annoying her. Now it felt… intimate, somehow. She wished he wouldn’t have called her that. There was a crack growing in her façade, one that hadn't been there until a moment ago. And those two idiots were still watching. _Get it together._

“This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening…” Gabriel bumbled incoherently, one hand clinging to her arm. “I’m an angel. _I'm an angel!_ ” he cried, panicked tears spilling down his cheeks. “I was only doing... what's in my nature! What I thought the Almighty wanted of me! How could She… how could She punish me for doing what I thought She wanted of me…" 

“Sucks dunnit.” 

Beelzebub shifted her wing slightly to scowl over at the source of the taunt- Crowley. Gabriel’s gaze fell on him for only a moment, before centering squarely on the angel by his side. 

“ _You,_ ” Gabriel snarled, rage flashing over his eyes as he shoved himself to his feet. He growled against the pain as his wings shifted, hanging limply at his back as he stumbled forward. “This is _your fault_ you fucking _piece of shit,_ ” he spat, rushing forward and aiming his new claws at Aziraphale's throat. He screamed as he failed to reach his intended target, falling to his knees once again as the pain shot from his wing joints and down his spine, making him writhe on the ground. 

Beelzebub reached for him again, to help him stand, and he shoved her back. “Don’t touch me!” he shouted, crawling to his feet and wobbling dangerously. “I don't need your pity, you filthy, _disgusting_ demon!” 

He didn’t know what hit him, but he certainly hadn’t expected it to be the Serpent of Eden, who had been lazily pacing behind all the commotion, seemingly disinterested in all of it. Gabriel was thrown back into the side of The Tower, its glass window cracking in a spider web pattern from the force. He gasped as his wings were pinned mercilessly against the shattered glass, and choked when he found a pair of slitted eyes staring into his soul. 

"Alright listen here, you unimaginable _git_. As much as I... _loathe_ Beelzebub, she is trying to help. You should be grateful there's someone who's been through this and wants to help you. Because _we_ didn't have that luxury,” Crowley snarled, jutting his head back in the direction of Beelzebub. “ _We_ had to do this on our own. We didn't know our wings would heal. We didn't know our claws would eventually retract. We didn't know the pain would ever stop, we thought we'd just keep burning. There was no one there to tell us we'd be ok, or to catch us when we fell. We just... fell. Beelzebub just risked _a lot_ to keep you from falling into the Pit, and personally, I can't fathom why. You don't deserve _an ounce_ of mercy, and for some incomprehensible reason, that demon you just called 'filthy and disgusting' is the _only_ creature in all of Heaven, Hell, or Earth who wants to show you any. So if I were you, I’d practice some of that humility and grace your lot are always touting, because otherwise I'll drag you into that Pit myself.” 

Gabriel swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded weakly, Crowley shoving him back against the glass as he released him. Beelzebub approached, her eyes fixed on Crowley. The serpent hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in being a part of any of this, so his reaction to Gabriel's words had stunned all of them. Even Aziraphale stood frozen behind him, a look of pure shock filling his blue eyes. Beelzebub came to a halt beside Crowley, and the look he gave her nearly swiped her feet out from beneath her. It was blinding, sincere _compassion_. Something about experiencing another angel's fall for the first time in millennia had provided something akin to empathy between the two most unlikely demons. 

Beelzebub caught Gabriel as he wavered, even though she had half a mind to let him drop after what he'd said. It wasn’t like she didn’t _know_ she was perceived as 'disgusting' but that didn’t stop it from hurting any less. Especially after what she'd just done. 

As if to remind her of that fact, a horrible screeching began echoing louder from the depths of the Pit. Hell was slowly realizing it had been denied its first delicacy in ages. And it was furious. 

Gabriel doubled over suddenly, screaming in agony as Beelzebub allowed him to lean on her. “We have to get him out of here. Crowley, you remember what happens next...” she urged, and Crowley nodded, his lips pursed tightly together. 

“What?” Aziraphale asked, eyes darting between the two demons. “What do you mean 'what happens next?’ He’s fallen now, hasn’t he? Isn’t it over?” he blubbered, wringing his hands together as he glanced nervously over his shoulder to the shrieking Pit. Crowley scoffed. 

“Oh, no angel. Not even close. He's just been cast out of Heaven. He hasn’t truly burned yet.” 

Gabriel straightened, his face twisted in a grimace as he gasped. “What? What do you mean? It gets _worse?_ ” he choked, clutching his ribs as he wheezed around the smoke in his lungs. 

“Yes. It getzzzz much, much worse,” Beelzebub said, miracling her jacket off the ground where she'd left it and willing it onto her shoulders, her wings dissipating into non-existence. Moloch buzzed a few feet away, apparently unwilling to land so close to the fallen angel leaning against his host. 

Beelzebub turned her attention to Aziraphale when she noticed Crowley's eyes had gone unfocused at the mention of burning. 

“We need to get him away from humans. Far, _far_ away. He's still got Holy light in him. His body will burn all of it out, but that process is very long, and it izzz excruciating. The last time I saw it…” Beelzebub faltered as Crowley flinched, turning his back and pacing away. 

“When we fell… some of us were driven mad by the pain. We attacked each other. New demonzzz are among the most powerful, becauzzzz they have no control. We ripped each other apart.” 

“My God that’s _horrifying_ ,” Aziraphale said, looking back with concern at his wandering demon companion. He wished he had confided any of this to him, but knowing Crowley's aversion to violence, he had a pretty good idea why he'd never once mentioned it in the last six thousand years. 

“Yes. It izzz. Now imagine what a demon like that could do to a city like London. There were no _people_ the last time an angel fell, I don't know what to expect. Granted, I couldn’t give a bigger _shit_ what happens to a bunch of puny humans but I think an incident like that might draw the attention of both our bosses and we can't afford that kind of attention right now. Err, _I_ can’t afford that kind of attention right now, I know you can do whatever the hell you want…” she snapped her mouth closed as she realized she was rambling. Since when did she _ramble?!_

“We need to get him somewhere secluded. Somewhere safe.” _There._ Back on track. _Christ._

Aziraphale considered for a moment, backing away as Gabriel choked and whined, barely staying on his feet as he clung to the much smaller demon beside him. Aziraphale turned and stared at Crowley, who stopped when he felt his eyes. 

“The… the cottage?” Aziraphale asked, and slowly, dawning realization sank over Crowley's features. 

“No. No. _No_. **No.** Absolutely not,” Crowley snapped, swinging his hands around in a panic. “That _is_ a safe place, Aziraphale. That's _our_ safe place. And I’ll be damned if…” he stumbled over that particular phrase. “If I let that… _prick_ anywhere near it.” 

“Crowley, we don't have much time!” Aziraphale pressed as he gestured back toward the Pit, which was getting louder and rumbling in its depths. 

“If this is as bad as you say it is, then we've got to do something or…” 

As if to prove his point, Gabriel fell to his knees again, his claws clutching at Beelzebub's pant leg and tearing it as his jaw hung open in a soundless scream. His eyes had begun to glow with a foggy white light. 

“We could toss him in the Pit?” Crowley said with a little smile, but it faded rather quickly at the glare he received from both Aziraphale and Beelzebub. 

“Yeah, alright,” he frowned, snapping his fingers and miracling all four of them into the living room of a cozy South Downs cottage.


	4. Chapter 4

Beelzebub took stock of her new surroundings, pleased with what the angel had come up with. Outside every window, as far as the eye could see, there were rolling hills and blue sky and not a human being in sight. Her admiration of the place was short lived, though, because Gabriel's claws dug into her calf where he clutched at her pant leg. She hissed in pain but tried to ignore it as she knelt to examine him. She immediately yelped and fell back away from him, the Holy light glowing from his eyes causing her skin to sizzle. 

Aziraphale stepped forward to help her to her feet, but she shrugged him away. She'd accepted too much of his help already, she couldn’t have him thinking she needed him. She was a Prince of Hell after all. She didn’t need anyone, or anything. 

“We've got to lock him away somewhere. Somewhere secure. He is going to start burning and he could very well destroy all of us by accident.” 

“There’s uh… there’s a cellar. Beneath the cottage. No windows, stone walls,” Aziraphale suggested, and Beelzebub nodded. “That could work.” 

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening,” Gabriel mumbled, clutching his hair with his claws as he rocked at her feet, blood trickling down his face as his claws dug into his scalp. She knelt once again, trying to avoid looking directly at him as his eyes glowed brighter. She gasped when one of his hands shot out, grasping her throat and yanking her forward. 

“Kill me. Please. Destroy me. Holy water. Hellfire, _anything_. I don’t want to be a demon. _I don't want to be a demon, Beelz, **please!**_ ” he cried, choking and releasing her throat as he doubled over, clamping his eyes shut and growling in pain. Beelzebub swallowed hard as she looked up at Aziraphale, and for a moment she considered it. 

“I volunteer. I'll kill him,” Crowley said, entirely serious, and Aziraphale whipped around to face him. 

“Crowley! I've never known you to be this _cruel._ Whatever's gotten into you?!” 

“Me?! What’s gotten into _me?!_ Aziraphale, this is _Gabriel_ we're talking about!” 

“Yes, I know Crowley, and I'm trying to be understanding, especially when Beelzebub has shown such extraordinary compassion…” 

Beelzebub made an irritated sort of buzz in her throat- a warning not to insult her with a word like _compassionate._

Aziraphale trudged on. “As much as I may… _dislike_ Gabriel…” 

“ _Dislike?!_ Angel stop being so _nice._ He's a wanker! You _hate_ him, you always have!” Crowley shouted, and Aziraphale fidgeted, glancing over toward Gabriel and Beelzebub. 

“Be that as it may, I am still an angel. I'm trying to help, even if it pains me, because as much as she denies it and as muddled and strange as it is, I think Beelzebub really _does_ have some sort of kinship with Gabriel- _don't buzz at me like that young lady_ \- and I'm just trying to consider how differently things might’ve worked out if anyone had helped _us_ when we thought our… partnership was at stake. Now I really don’t understand why you're being so hateful Crowley, Gabriel _is_ a… 'wanker' as you put it, but he doesn’t deserve…” 

“But he _does,_ angel! You don’t understand! You weren’t there, you don’t know what he said to you before he would’ve destroyed you!” Crowley yelled, before both of them froze, realizing what he'd just said… in front of the Prince of Hell. 

Beelzebub considered them both for a moment, the cogs clearly turning in her mind. She looked at Crowley, then Aziraphale, then back to Crowley. She was silent for a very long time, her hand resting on Gabriel's back. She stood slowly, approaching Crowley and marking how he backed away substantially as she stalked nearer. She stopped when Crowley was backed against a table, her eyes darting between his. _Clever devil_ , she thought as she watched him, and cursed herself for not having realized it sooner. That hadn’t been Crowley in Hell, when she sentenced him to destruction. It had simply _looked_ like Crowley. She barely contained a wave of rage, having been duped like that, and considered the very real possibility of destroying Crowley where he stood, knowing that he wasn’t nearly as invulnerable as they'd all thought. He gripped the edge of the table and gulped, seeming to shrink in the shadow of the Prince. 

“Aziraphale,” she said without looking away from Crowley, and both of them flinched. She dragged her eyes away from the lesser demon, glancing over where the angel was nervously wringing his hands. “I’ll need you to take Gabriel to the cellar. If Crowley or I get too close when he's bleeding Holy light, it could destroy us,” she said matter-of-factly, tossing a sly grin at Crowley that screamed _I know what you did._ He tucked his head in submission and slinked to hide behind the angel. 

Aziraphale stood frozen, clearly aware that she'd figured out what they'd done and very keen of the danger they were now in. He'd at least had some kind of leverage over her when she was under the assumption they were both somehow impervious. He swallowed hard and decided not to comment on it. 

“So… you still want to… go through with… all of this?” he asked carefully. She didn’t get the chance to respond, because Gabriel crawled over to her and wrapped a hand around her ankle, begging at her feet. 

“Please, Beelzebub, I beg you. Destroy me, _please!_ Have mercy, I can’t do this, I can’t…” 

He sobbed against her pant leg, his skin beginning to glow iridescent. Beelzebub growled against the threat of… _feelings_ and looked down at Gabriel as pitilessly as she could muster. 

“Gabriel, I’ve never once been _merciful_ in my entire existence and I'm not about to start now. If we had to fall for our crimes then so do you,” she snapped, her conviction faltering only slightly at the sight of her former adversary, who she'd at least respected for his ruthlessness, crying at her feet. “But… I _will_ be here to help you through it. Now, Aziraphale, I need you to construct a cross and tie him to it. Line the walls of the cellar with crosses and nail a horseshoe over the entrance.” 

“Won’t… won't all of those things hurt him?” 

“Yes. They will. Hopefully they will keep him weak enough that he can’t escape.” 

“Oh come on you _bitch_ ,” Gabriel seethed, forcing himself to his feet and swiping a claw across her cheek, blood oozing from it instantly. “If you won't end it I'll _make you_ ,” he snarled, shoving her back against a wall and advancing, the white glow radiating from him making her cry out in pain. He wrapped one hand around her throat and lifted her off the ground, his other hand pulled back, claws extended and ready to strike. 

She could have broken free. She could have used her wings to shove out of his grasp. She could have sliced through his arm with her own claws and made him release her. But she felt frozen as an icy cold realization gripped her. 

She didn’t want to fight him. She didn’t want to _hurt_ him. 

What. The. _Fuck._

Gabriel seemed to notice this, and for a split second, the dying angel in him was there, clear as day. He hesitated. Suddenly he was yanked back by his broken wings, and he howled in pain as Aziraphale threw him across the cottage, spreading his own wings and shielding both Crowley and Beelzebub from his light. Aziraphale stalked forward, yanking Gabriel to his feet and pinning both his wrists behind him. He grabbed one of his wings roughly at the joint and held it at a painfully awkward angle, reminiscent of the way a catcher wrangles an aggressive dog. 

“Alright Gabriel, that’s enough. One way or another, you're coming with me. I can be gentle… or not. Which would you prefer?” he asked calmly, and Gabriel nearly collapsed in his grasp. 

“I’m sorry! I'm sorry Beelz! I'm sorry,” Gabriel pleaded, tears streaming down his face as she approached, wiping the blood from her cheek where he'd scratched her. 

“Just please don’t do this to me, don't make me go through this, I can't… I can't…” he whimpered, his words choking off as Aziraphale looked to her for approval. She stopped in front of both of them, her skin crawling from the Holy essence he was radiating. 

“I’m begging you…” he whispered, and she felt that same feeling she'd felt when Heaven opened up beneath her. That instant of everything she'd ever known dropping out from beneath her. She didn’t know why, but her corporation had started breathing quite heavily. 

“You know I don't beg. And I'm _begging_ you…” his voice cracked on a sob, and his head bowed forward, very close to resting against her chest. Her breaths faltered and she swallowed hard, her tongue feeling as if it had tied itself in a knot at the back of her throat. 

She could destroy him. Right here and now. If she'd been given the choice between falling or obliteration, she probably would’ve chosen the latter. Who gave her the right to deny Gabriel that? Her claws extended, and she pulled them slowly up to his throat. He was still partly an angel. A deadly wound inflicted by a demon's claws would end him… 

She placed her cupped hand beneath his chin and lifted gently, wincing as his gaze burned her eyes. She stared into the light for as long as she could, watching as the last swirl of his purple irises burned away. She said nothing, but nodded curtly at Aziraphale, before she could change her mind, and he quickly dragged Gabriel toward the door, even as he screamed and thrashed. Aziraphale managed to drag him outside and around the side of the cottage, toward the cellar, leaving Beelzebub and Crowley alone in the cottage. 

“Fuck!” Beelzebub shouted, wiping her eyes before they could even threaten tears. _Tears!_ She'd never shed a tear in her _life_ what the Hell was wrong with her?! It must have been that raw feeling you get when an old wound is torn open. Seeing an angel burn, and knowing _exactly_ what it felt like. It was like she'd been forced to relive her own fall, ages after she _thought_ she'd gotten over it. It made her feel weak and exposed, and she hated it. 

She glanced over at Crowley, and for no reason flipped him the middle finger before she stormed out the door after Aziraphale. 

She found the wooden hatch doors leading to the cellar and rushed down the stairs, grunting as she was hit by a wrecking ball of celestial energy. 

“Beelzebub, get out of here, I think… I think it's starting. He could destroy you,” Aziraphale urged, backing away from the giant cross he'd miracled into existence. Gabriel's wrists were bound to either end of the horizontal beam of the cross and his ankles tied to the bottom. Where his skin touched the cross, steam was beginning to rise, accompanied by a sickening sizzling sound. Gabriel writhed against his restraints, his cheeks glistening with tears. 

“Please, please, don’t do this, don't do this. I don’t want to burn, _please_ I don't want to burn,” he sobbed, and Aziraphale had to turn away from him, his expression pained. “You're sure all this is necessary?” he asked, and she nodded. 

“You’ll understand soon enough. Now line these walls with crosses,” she barked, turning and striding purposefully toward the stairs. It took everything in her not to turn and look at Gabriel as he cried out to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright the angst and torment is only just getting started. I know, I'm SORRY! I'm a monster.  
> But at this point in my writing, I found [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vh_-lp1_-Rw) and it has been my soundtrack for writing this fic. Cover/remix of "Fix You" by Coldplay and it's just... so many feels.  
> There is light at the end of the tunnel, I promise! Eventual happy ending!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger warning* Descriptions of past trauma and PTSD triggered anxiety attack.

Beelzebub entered the French doors of the cottage, followed closely by Aziraphale. She felt agitated and twitchy. She couldn’t decide whether she'd done the right thing. Or if she was even supposed to. She was a demon, after all. She wasn’t supposed to do the right thing. The right thing-or the merciful thing- would’ve been to destroy Gabriel before he could burn. So, she guessed, she'd sort of done the right thing, for a demon. By doing what felt wrong. 

His first scream of agony wasn't muffled at all by the layers of stone and earth separating the cellar and the cottage. Both Beelzebub and Crowley visibly flinched, and Aziraphale looked between them, concerned. 

“How… how long does this part… usually last?” he asked nervously, and Beelzebub and Crowley shared a look. 

“Don't know,” Beelzebub said, wincing harder as Gabriel screamed again. “We didn’t really have any sense of time. We didn’t have any sense of anything, other than… agony. Could've been days… could’ve been years…” she said, her mind starting to swirl around in a fog as Gabriel's cries mixed with pleas for mercy. She'd thought she would be strong enough to be here through this, but now that she really thought about it… could she really stay here and listen to him scream, knowing his torment might not stop for _years._

“Years?!” Aziraphale said, his eyes wide as they darted between the two demons. Crowley had taken to anxiously pacing the kitchen, his hands never really settling anywhere. He'd try to tuck them in his pockets, then rub his arms, then chew his nails. Honestly, Beelzebub was feeling just as agitated but he was, but she was trying her hardest not to show it. 

“That… God wouldn't do that to Her angels, that’s… _cruel._ ” 

“He’s not Her angel anymore,” Beelzebub said absently. Aziraphale froze, his eyes softening. 

“Oh. Goodness. Well I'm s…” 

“Don’t you _dare_ say you're sorry because you're not,” Beelzebub snapped before Aziraphale could finish his statement. “No one in Heaven has _ever_ felt sorry for a fallen angel and if you say it now, I hate to burst your bubble, but you're just a few millennia too late. Where was your pity when we were burning? Where was Heaven's compassion when we were screaming in agony, our bodies and our wings broken from the Fall? Who reached out a hand when we cried to the Almighty for forgiveness, or at least for a merciful death? No one. So don't insult me with your pity, Aziraphale,” Beelzebub said, gasping from the grip of wrath that had seemed to overtake her. She realized she was shaking, and with no small amount of horror, she felt tears dropping from her chin. 

Aziraphale stood stunned, his brow furrowing in concern. He glanced back toward Crowley, who had gone very still, his serpentine eyes glistening as he stared at Beelzebub. She wiped her face quickly, sniffing away the evidence of the first tears she'd ever shed. She had never felt more relief than when Moloch landed on her shoulder, his wings still buzzing as if to comfort her. 

“Right, well. Seeing as how this process may um… be difficult for the two of you, how does tea sound?” Aziraphale asked, and when both demons looked up at him like he must be daft, he shuffled into the kitchen to busy himself with the tea anyway. 

Neither demon touched their tea. Beelzebub sat rigidly in a dining room chair, trying her hardest not to mirror the anxiety attack that Crowley seemed to be having. He kept pacing the kitchen, and with every scream from the cellar, he winced and paced more frantically. Beelzebub wanted to judge him for his apparent weakness, but seeing as how she was feeling all of the same traumas bubble up from her own fall, she couldn’t very well judge him without judging herself. She was just better at covering it up. Crowley had spent too much time away from Hell. He'd forgotten what it was like to show even a blink of weakness in front of other demons. She didn’t know whether she should be critical or envious of him at the moment. 

The sun grew lower on the horizon, until the cottage was swallowed up by twilight. Aziraphale seemed to be the only one in full control of his faculties, as he set about lighting a fire and making the cottage as comfortable as possible. It didn’t help. He'd taken the hint when his attempt at conversation was met with hostility from Beelzebub and nervous silence from Crowley. Even so, he flitted about, always orbiting closer to Crowley and keeping a keen eye on the way he seemed pained by his own corporation. The angel himself was handling the experience surprisingly well, although if he weren’t trying to keep his aura soothing for the sake of the two clearly panicked demons, he probably would’ve fled the cottage by now. 

Everything changed in an instant, when one of Gabriel's screams turned inhuman. It was a sound that had no equal on the Earthly plane- the sound an angel made at the moment their Holy essence was truly being bled from them. When their soul was ripped out, blackened and tarnished, and then shoved back in. It made the lights in the cottage flicker, and the windows creak. 

It also had a noticeable affect on the two demons present, their hands clamping over their ears and crying out, Beelzebub knocking her chair to the ground as she jumped up, trying to block out the flash memories as they assaulted her senses. She blinked back tears and opened her eyes in time to see Aziraphale rush to Crowley's side, fussing worriedly over his friend. She felt an inexplicable pang of envy. 

“I can’t stay here, Aziraphale. I can't. I can’t be here for this, I tried, I’m sorry,” Crowley said, gasping as tears began falling from his naked eyes. He didn’t wait for permission, simply turned and rushed out the French doors, loosing his wings and sending papers flying around the cottage when he took off. 

Aziraphale turned back toward Beelzebub, clearly torn between the choice of chasing after Crowley or remaining behind to help. Beelzebub kept her hands over her ears as that scream tore at her soul, her eyes meeting the angel's. If she allowed them both to leave, they would probably never come back. Not after what she'd discovered. They'd flee somewhere they could never be found and she wouldn’t be able to reveal their little body swap scheme to her superiors. 

Perhaps it was how raw she was feeling, perhaps she'd lost her mind entirely. But she was shocked to realize she didn’t much care about any of that right now. She made a promise to Gabriel that she would help him through this, and even if she was dying to run from her own pain, even if she knew she could capture Crowley and force him to face justice… none of that was important right now. She had a promise to keep. 

She dismissed Aziraphale with a nod, steeling herself and turning her back as he spread his wings, disappearing into the night sky just beyond the cottage, leaving Beelzebub alone. She suddenly felt smaller than the house fly on her shoulder. 

*** 

Aziraphale found Crowley on the coast after almost two hours of searching, his serpentine eyes watching the stars as they danced over the water. His wings were still visible, their ebony feathers ruffling in the humid ocean breeze. He was noticeably shaking, even though the night air wasn't all that chilly. 

“I’m sorry angel, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I thought I'd be okay. Especially since it’s Gabriel and he… well,” Crowley faltered, sniffing and swiping a hand against his cheek, smearing the tears before Aziraphale could see them. 

“It's been thousands of years. I've done incredible things, seen the best and the worst of humanity. I helped save it from bloody Armageddon, for God's sake,” he mumbled, shooting an apologetic look at the angel for his blasphemy. 

“But seeing it happen… it's like I'm right back there. It's like I can still feel my wings burning and that scream in my throat _Christ,_ ” Crowley said, gasping back more tears. 

Aziraphale didn’t say anything or appear to make any physical move, but he silently expanded his angelic aura until it swallowed Crowley entirely. Crowley gasped from the relief of it, falling to his knees and clenching his fists against his thighs. He panted for a few moments, then released a deep sigh and leaned against Aziraphale’s leg, the angel’s hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder. 

“Thanks, angel,” Crowley whispered, and Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder in response. They didn’t say anything for a long time, as they soaked in the quiet grace of the ocean at South Downs. 

“We have to go back,” Aziraphale said. 

“We can’t. Aziraphale, _she knows_. She knows what we did. She knows I can still be destroyed by Holy water, and you by Hellfire. She'll just use us until she gets what she wants and then she'll finish what she started.” 

“I don’t believe she will. Crowley, you didn’t see what I just saw. After you left. Maybe she _used_ to be that kind of ruthless demon but… just before I came after you, I saw it. She looked… scared. Not of the trauma from her fall, not of the sanctions she might face going back to Hell. She was scared of… what was happening to Gabriel.” 

“That’s impossible. It's _Beelzebub_ , she's a ruthless warrior and Satan's right hand. She destroys first, asks questions later. How else do you think she was named Prince of Hell?” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, kneeling and pushing gently on Crowley’s shoulder so he was facing him. “You just described all of Heaven and Hell. What we're _expected_ to be. Angels are supposed to be the warriors of God, and demons that of Satan. But when we were faced with the actual call to arms, you and I refused. Not because we were afraid of losing bookshops, or sushi, or a car, or even the wine.” 

They shared a knowing smile. 

“I chose not to fight because I was afraid of losing the only thing in this world that ever made any of those things worth enjoying. My _friend._ ” 

Crowley sniffed, then cleared his throat and turned his gaze toward the ocean. 

“She let us go, Crowley. She knew we wouldn’t come back and she _let us go._ I think… she did that because she didn’t want to leave Gabriel behind. Because… he's her friend.” 

Crowley was silent for a very long time, his eyes searching the horizon. He sighed, his eyes finally meeting Aziraphale's in earnest. 

“We've gotta go back, huh?”


	6. Chapter 6

Beelzebub's knees hit the ground as she collapsed, tears finally spilling unencumbered down her cheeks as she tried to cover her ears from that scream. She never would’ve broken down like this in front of Aziraphale or Crowley but now that she was alone… it all caught up to her. 

“I'm sorry Gabriel. I’m sorry. I should’ve killed you. I shouldn’t have put you through this,” she mumbled to herself, wincing as the scream choked off and began again. She rocked herself as she was thrust back thousands of years, and she could feel the memories eating away at her soul. There was no pain like it- when her angelic soul had bled from her, twisting and writhing as it was blackened into the soul of a demon, and then seeping back into her body like poison. A body that had only ever known light and comfort and warmth… and then all at once it knew hunger and pain and cold. It was like shoving a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong, but that piece was angry, and it started burning every piece around it. 

She remained huddled for what felt like hours on the dining room floor, just trying to keep herself from fleeing. Every inch of her skin crawled- her body seemed to be _begging_ her to get away. Go somewhere, _anywhere_ that wasn’t here. But she couldn’t. She'd seen that moment of hesitation in Gabriel when he was trying to provoke her to destroy him. He'd witnessed a moment of pure honesty from a demon, and he had hesitated to hurt her, just as she had done. He was going to need her, desperately. That was the only thing keeping her tethered to the cottage. 

After what felt like days, her knees started to ache and she slowly awoke from her dormant state. She had intentionally shut down her body's unnecessary functions in an attempt to keep herself from fleeing unconsciously. It had worked, although now she wasn’t sure how much time had passed. The cottage was eerily silent, and the sunrise was just starting to warm the night sky outside. She stood, her body slowly awakening and tingling from the inactivity. She tossed her hat onto the table and ruffled her short black hair, glancing over when Moloch buzzed in her periphery. She held her hand up for him to land on, which he did, before slowly flexing his tiny wings. 

“It's just you and me now. Please don’t go anywhere. I don’t know if I can do this alone…” she whispered, surprised at the vulnerability in her own voice. She immediately chastised herself, then swallowed as she realized there was no reason to do so. Nobody was watching anymore. No more insufferable angel. No more irritating demon. Just the Prince of Hell, a house fly, and a fallen Archangel. 

“Right.” 

She steeled herself, straightening her jacket as Moloch went to buzz around behind her. She exited the cottage on wobbly legs, approaching the cellar with as much courage as she could muster. 

She yelped and stumbled back from the energy that hit her only a few feet away from the cellar doors. It was a pitch black aura, and it seemed to be seeping out the doors like a heavy mist. _Gabriel._

His aura shouldn’t still be bleeding like that. Once his soul was back inside his corporation, his aura should have settled around him. That could only mean that the crosses had done their job. They were keeping him open and exposed, so he couldn't ever truly heal. _How much pain he must be in right now…_

“Gabriel,” she said, as loudly as she could past the tremors, as she attempted to step forward into the energy field surrounding the cellar. Every inch of her crawled with unease, even as she bit her lip and pushed through it. She listened for any sign of him, and received nothing but a weak pulse from the aura. The horseshoe over the door glowed as she approached, and she whined as it began to resist her. She covered her eyes with an elbow, and finally reached the door, collapsing at the foot of it. The horseshoe overhead blazed, and she felt as if an ox had placed its head on her chest and was pushing her back with all its strength. She dug her heels into the dirt and leaned against the door, more tears spilling down her cheeks. There was no way she could get in there and release him. Not without the angel to remove the Holy artifacts. And the longer Gabriel remained tied to that cross, the weaker he would get until eventually his demonic soul would just… evaporate. 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered against the door, gasping and laying a hand against the wood, imagining instead it was Gabriel's chest. Screw pretending she didn’t care. Screw saying he was 'just an acquaintance.’ Yes, he was the annoying asshole who had been giving her shit for centuries. Yes, he would've been her adversary on the battlefield. But she had grown so accustomed to his tepid little jabs and how cunning he thought he was. She couldn’t imagine not hearing him call her 'Beelz' with that smug stupid grin on his smug stupid face ever again. She couldn’t imagine not seeing her _friend_ again. 

“Gabriel, I'm so, so sorry,” she cried against the door, and she felt his aura slipping away. 

*** 

Aziraphale gave Crowley as much time as he needed to compose himself. He'd never seen him panic like that but he’d also never had to witness another angel fall before. From the way both demons had reacted, it wasn’t something they ever really 'got over.’ 

“I’m alright, angel,” Crowley finally said, approaching Aziraphale as he soaked in the sunrise. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to go back until you're ready.” 

“Yeah 'm fine,” he forced out, and Aziraphale shifted to stare pointedly at him, clearly not believing a word. Crowley fidgeted, and avoided his gaze. “I could use a drink anyhow. All the booze is back at the cottage,” he said with a smile, which Aziraphale returned warmly. 

They flew swiftly back to the cottage, the sun stretching up into the sky and setting the South Downs alight with an orange glow. Even so beautifully lit, it wasn’t enough to mask the dark energy blooming from the cottage as they approached. Aziraphale coughed when he landed, the demonic aura absolutely stifling. He caught himself against Crowley when he wavered, blinking against a feeling reminiscent of smoke in his lungs. 

“Thank you dear,” he said as he relinquished his grip on Crowley's arm, tucking his wings away and striding purposefully around the cottage to approach the cellar. He stopped dead at what he found, the sight hitting him at the center of his angelic heart. Beelzebub was curled around herself on the ground outside the door, one hand resting against it. It didn’t take an angel to feel her heartbreak. 

Aziraphale approached, kneeling and gently laying his hand on her back. Her head shot up and she jumped, her eyes ringed red and glistening with tears. They widened in disbelief as she realized who had startled her, her jaw hanging open when she saw Crowley standing behind him. 

“Azzzzz… Azziraphale… you… you came back,” she choked, quickly wiping her eyes of their tears and glancing self-consciously at Crowley. Aziraphale held out his hand, and after a very long, confused stare, Beelzebub took it. He helped her to her feet, releasing her hand and watching her frantically try to banish any evidence of weakness. 

“Well, there’s a single malt scotch in the cupboard that I couldn’t live without,” he said with a hopeful smile, and felt a wave of warmth when Beelzebub broke her very calculated façade and actually _laughed._

She gasped and turned away just as a sob threatened to overtake her, and she buried her face in her hands. Aziraphale wanted to step forward and embrace her, but he got the distinct impression that not many people had touched her without getting inconveniently discorporated. So he settled on simply stepping closer to her and snapping his fingers in the direction of the cellar. The horseshoe fell from the doorway with a _pop_ and the crosses lining the walls all disintegrated into unreality. 

Beelzebub wrangled her emotions with no small amount of effort, then turned back toward Aziraphale. 

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” she said, the sincerity in her eerie blue eyes nearly knocking him off his feet. He swallowed hard and nodded, almost unable to pull his eyes away from hers. 

“How can we help?” Crowley asked, Aziraphale nearly jumping out of his corporation when he spoke, mostly because he had forgotten he was there. Partly because he never expected Crowley to willingly offer his help. Apparently neither did Beelzebub, because she stared at Crowley, unable to formulate words. 

“What does he need? How can we… make this easier?” Aziraphale clarified, and Beelzebub seemed more able to answer him than Crowley. 

“Um… a… a blanket. A cold cloth. His body will be rejecting the demonic soul. He'll have a fever. And chills,” she stuttered, and Crowley nodded, quickly darting into the cottage. He reemerged with a very large blanket and a cloth and handed them to her. She took them in a daze, her eyes following Crowley suspiciously. 

“I understand your trepidation, Beelzebub, given Crowley's… earlier hostility. But we are here to help. You _and_ Gabriel. Whatever you need.” 

Beelzebub considered Crowley for a moment longer, before dragging her attention back to the angel. “I think… it had better just be me. He's going to be very weak right now. And… I don’t think he would want… either of you seeing him like that,” she said, imagining how livid Gabriel would be if he found out the two Armageddon imbeciles were present. But that was the Gabriel she had known for centuries. She buried another rush of panic as she considered what she was about to see when she entered the cellar. _Not_ the Gabriel she knew. 

“Very well. Take all the time you need. We'll be here when you need us,” Aziraphale said with a nod, turning and beckoning Crowley to follow him. Crowley hovered close by Aziraphale's side, even bumping his shoulder affectionately as they walked together into the cottage, and for the first time in her entire existence, Beelzebub felt true envy, and true failure. Where Crowley hadn't been too proud to admit he was friends with the enemy, even going so far as to risk everything… 

She was too late. She had failed her angel.


	7. Chapter 7

Even having experienced the fall herself, Beelzebub still felt entirely unprepared for what she found in the cellar. 

All of Gabriel's clothes had burned away. His skin was blistered where it touched the cross, and his wrists and ankles were flayed and bloody from the restraints. His wings still hung limp at his back, their feathers entirely burned away from the many delicate bones which had snapped during the fall. His eyes were closed, though his chest was moving quickly as he panted small, pained breaths. 

“Gabriel,” she said quietly as she approached, trying not to startle him. He jolted in surprise, yelping from the pain the movement caused. His face twisted into a grimace, before he choked out a sob. Beelzebub rushed forward, miracling away the restraints and catching him as he collapsed forward, entirely limp. She wrapped the blanket around him, feeling him cling weakly to her arms as she sank to the ground next to him. She couldn’t help the tears that fell as she held him against her, his entire body trembling. 

Gabriel would never do this. He wasn’t _needy_ like this. She didn’t think she'd ever seen him willingly _touch_ anyone, much less cling to them like this. He cried against her, and she was surprised to find her hand moving of its own volition, stroking his hair as she cooed softly. 

“It’s ok. It's over. Gabriel, it's me, it's Beelz,” she whimpered, the emotions seeming to seize her entirely and make her act in ways she never had. She'd never been _comforting_ or _soft_. But she just couldn’t handle this. It was _Gabriel_ \- the angel who could walk into a room and make everyone, humans and celestials alike, feel like a bug under his Louboutins. And here he was, shaking and sobbing in her grasp. 

She didn’t know she was even capable of such gentleness, but if he wasn't himself, then she couldn’t respond as herself. No one was watching, anyhow. It was just her and her friend, who needed her more than anything right now. 

She wrapped the blanket around him tighter as she pulled back to finally look him in the eyes, her breath hitching in her throat at the sight. Where the irises had once reflected that intense violet, they were now pure white, edged only by a thin line of indigo. They should have been terrifying, but to her they were just… foreign. She didn’t _know_ those eyes. 

She hadn’t realized her hand had moved until it was already resting against the side of his neck. “Oh Gabriel I'm sorry,” she whispered, her chin quivering as she watched the tears spilling down his cheeks. She pulled him against her again, holding him tightly as his shivering seemed to increase. She unfurled her wings without a second thought, cradling him beneath her ebony feathers. 

And that was how she stayed, her fallen Archangel huddled close by her side and her wing blanketing him, until the light outside began to grow dim. She didn’t want to move him until he was ready, but as the sun set, the cellar grew colder. He was already struggling to maintain his body heat from his fever, and she could feel him shivering harder. She had to move him inside, though she dreaded facing Aziraphale and Crowley when Gabriel was this weak. She felt comfortable showing this softer side of herself here, away from everything. She was going to have to shatter her reputation if she was going to be what Gabriel needed. That in itself was terrifying. 

“Gabriel, we've got to get you inside. You haven’t stopped shivering,” she said quietly, taking notice that he hadn’t moved in quite a long time, other than the occasional tremor that made his wings twitch and earned a pitiful whimper. He didn’t seem to react, just remained huddled against her side, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly against her sleeve. She pulled away slightly, and found his eyes dazed and unfocused. “Gabriel,” she whispered, grazing her fingertips against his temple, which still glistened with sweat. He sucked in a breath and flinched away from the touch, his skin still hypersensitive from adrenaline and pain. Beelzebub pulled her hand back reluctantly, leaning away and ducking down slightly to look into his eyes. They still refused to focus on her, and she was starting to wonder just how aware he was of his surroundings. Did he even recognize her? 

“Do you think you can walk?” she asked, and he nodded 'no,' his eyelids heavy as he wavered. “I need you to try,” she urged, unfolding her wing from around him and when he shivered violently, she miracled him a new set of clothes, like the ones she'd seen him wear when he ran through the park, before pulling the blanket back around his shoulders. She waited for him to make a move, her hands grasping his upper arm, ready to help. His breaths were labored, and he seemed to be contemplating whether moving somewhere warmer was even worth the pain. After several forced breaths, he nodded quickly. Beelzebub shifted so she was underneath his arm, and she grunted as she helped haul him to his feet. He nearly collapsed once he was upright, and Beelzebub had to rely on a bit of demonic strength to keep him from falling back to the ground. 

She didn’t give him time to hesitate, and as they emerged stumbling from the cellar, she realized night had fallen once again. They reached the French doors to the cottage after some very unstable steps, and when Beelzebub pushed the door open, Crowley and Aziraphale jumped up from their positions at the table. Aziraphale took a few hurried steps forward to help, but hesitated when he remembered this was _Gabriel._ Instead he scurried toward the sofa, pulling it closer to the fire and motioning for Beelzebub to make her way there. She continued to support Gabriel beneath his arm, fumbling forward and finally allowing him to drop onto the sofa cushion. She knelt in front of him, only now getting a good look at him in the firelight. She pushed a strand of sweat-slick hair from his forehead, cradling his face as she nearly began crying again. His skin was sickly pale and shiny with sweat, and his eyes were rimmed red around the eyelashes, those strange white irises seeming sunken from the stress. He looked like _hell._

She glanced down at his wrists, finding the cuts from his restraints barely healed. She wrapped her hands gently around them and poured her own aura over him, the skin mending like a basket weave. She did the same to his ankles, and when she reached up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, one of his hands shot up and grasped her wrist with enough force to break bone. She yelped in pain, at first confused but quickly waving Aziraphale off as he made to defend her. 

“It’s alright,” she forced out, turning back to meet Gabriel's eyes, which were now very intent and _very_ threatening. She understood why he reacted the way he did. She placed her free hand on the side of his cheek and spoke softly, her face mere centimeters from his. “I won't touch your wings. I know how badly they hurt right now. I'm just going to heal the burn from the cross, okay?” she whispered, and his eyes softened almost imperceptibly. He took a shaky breath in and released her wrist, her fingertips venturing just beneath the collar of his shirt and healing the blistered skin. He gasped and clamped his eyes shut, tears forming at the corners which he quickly attempted to hide by burying his face in his hands. Beelzebub crawled quickly from where she knelt on the ground, tucking herself close by his side and wrapping her hands around his upper arm. 

“Can I… heal his other injuries?” Aziraphale asked, approaching quietly and hovering with bated concern near the sofa. Beelzebub glanced back at Gabriel's broken and burned wings, then sighed heavily. 

“Unfortunately, no. I was able to heal these because they weren’t directly caused by the fall. That's one of the cruelest parts of falling. None of it can be healed using celestial energy. You just have to… deal with it.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, looking pained. He was finally beginning to understand the real agony of falling. 

Gabriel moaned in pain as he wobbled, leaning heavily against Beelzebub, his head resting against her shoulder as he huffed a heavy breath, followed by a cough. His breaths came harder and harder, until it seemed as if he might hyperventilate. She reached up without thinking about it and cradled him against her shoulder. If Crowley or Aziraphale were shocked by the intimacy of the gesture, neither said anything. 

“Is there… a bedroom? I think if I can get him to sleep…” she asked absently, her attention still entirely focused on Gabriel. 

“Gabriel doesn’t sleep,” Aziraphale said. Beelzebub had the immediate urge to roll her eyes, but he _was_ trying to be helpful. Providing her with information she already knew, but he was trying. 

“I’m aware. But if there’s ever a time to make an exception, it's now. He needs to heal, but it will take time. Maybe, if I can get him to sleep, then… then he doesn’t have to feel this anymore…” she said, her voice growing softer until it was barely a whisper. She realized her suggestion sounded very much like genuine concern and she was still feeling entirely uncomfortable letting Aziraphale and Crowley see that she was actually _worried_ about Gabriel. 

“Yes, of course. Do you think… you can get him to walk again?” Aziraphale asked, and Beelzebub nodded. “Come on Gabriel,” she whispered quietly in his ear, tugging at his arm gently. “I need you to stand again for me. Just a little farther and then you can rest.” 

He let out a breathy groan, then nodded and tried to stand. His knees collapsed halfway up, and Beelzebub froze when Crowley appeared, catching Gabriel's other arm and draping it over his shoulders. Crowley's yellow eyes met Beelzebub's icy blues for only a moment, and she gulped back a feeling of gratitude. _For Crowley_. Ew. 

She blinked away the feeling as quickly as she could, refocusing her attention on Gabriel. She knew he normally would’ve been mortified to be this close to Crowley, probably would’ve punched him in the mouth if he were at all cognizant. Instead, his head rolled forward, and Beelzebub's legs shook as she caught half of his nearly unconscious weight. 

“Gabriel, if I end up having to carry you, I won't be able to resist the urge to drop you. Now come on, you great bloody git, work with us,” Crowley said, shooting Beelzebub a mischievous grin as he rearranged his grip on Gabriel's arm, which she returned with ire. Gabriel stumbled weakly along as they dragged him down the hall to a bedroom, where Aziraphale stood waiting. They made it to the bed, and Beelzebub was a little shocked that Crowley helped her lower Gabriel onto it with equal care. She swallowed her pride and crawled up onto the bed, shifting Gabriel on his side and positioning his head in her lap. She fussed with his wings, making sure they were laid comfortably out behind him, then pulled the covers up over his shoulders and returned her attention to softly caressing through his hair. The touch was the most intimate thing she'd ever shared with anyone, but the quiet whimper Gabriel made gave her all the justification she needed. 

“I’m… going to stay with him,” she said weakly, keeping her head bowed so she wouldn’t have to see the look on Crowley or Aziraphale’s face. She was fairly certain they had both moved on from judging her for showing compassion. Actually she didn’t think either of them had ever really judged _her_ , now that she thought about it. Certainly not Aziraphale, and Crowley had never really been one to judge anyone- it was one of his failings as a demon. Still… she was sitting on the same bed as someone she'd sworn until recently that she only sort of mildly tolerated, his head in her lap and her fingertips stroking through his hair as she tried to soothe him to sleep. 

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, angelic comfort pouring into her. “I know you're going to hate hearing this, Beelzebub, but… you're doing a very good thing.” 

She buzzed low in her throat, hearing Aziraphale chuckle before he and Crowley turned to leave. 

She whispered “thank you” just before the door closed behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

Beelzebub was finally able to coax Gabriel to sleep, after several hours. His body was fighting his own soul, like a virus. It was trying to burn out what it saw as an invader. His skin was hot to the touch and drenched with sweat from the fever. She continued stroking her fingernails through his hair, providing heat when he was chilled. She could remember this part of her own fall all too vividly. The fever had driven many demons mad, some to the point that they destroyed themselves and others. She could remember the feel of her claws sinking into the flesh of those that had once been her friends, when she was forced to defend herself. How she wished sleep had been a viable option back then. 

It took almost two days for his fever to break. Even after, when he was no longer panting and sweating, he was still incredibly weak, slipping in and out of consciousness. Beelzebub didn’t complain when he crawled further into her lap, his hand wrapping around her lower back and clinging to her. She wasn’t sure if he was entirely cognizant of what he was doing, to him she may have just been the warm body that had been soothing him when his sleep grew fitful. It was strange, this feeling. Being needed. Not in the way she was needed in Hell, to keep demons in line and make sure they did what they were told (which apparently she wasn’t very good at, prime example: Crowley). This was… not something she ever expected to feel as a demon. 

She wasn’t sure when he had finally come out of his delirium, but after two more days, he still hadn't really moved. Neither of them had. She just remained sitting at the head of the bed, Gabriel in her lap and his arm still wrapped around her. She listened to him breathe for the longest time, too terrified to move. Once she did… she would have to look him in the eyes and _know_ he'd seen her at her most vulnerable. She had shown compassion, to the extent that a demon most certainly never should. Although, she realized with a gulp, she’d also seen him at his most vulnerable, too. 

It was that fact that inspired her to break the nearly four-day silence. 

“Gabriel,” she whispered as gently as possible, her hand coursing through his hair. He sighed deeply, seeming almost regretful when he pulled himself away from her, sitting up in bed and cradling his arms around himself. He winced when his claws touched his skin, and he looked down at his hands, almost as if they weren’t his own. Beelzebub watched him for a moment, his head ducked in shame and his wings trembling behind him. She scooted forward on her knees, holding her hands out, palms up, and motioned for his hands. When he flinched and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, she reached out, resting her hands over top of his new demonic claws. 

“I can help you. I’ll show you how to retract them. And your wings, I know you're too weak right now to do it yourself,” she said gently, watching as his white eyes dragged up to meet hers. They weren’t the violet eyes she'd grown accustomed to, no. But she could get used to them. 

He held his hands out slowly, shakily, and she cradled them in her open palms. 

“I'm going to put just a bit of my aura in your hands, and help you retract them, ok?” she asked, and he nodded. She realized with a slight blow that what she was about to do was very similar to what Crowley and Aziraphale had done. Simply transferred their energy into a different corporation. She felt a new respect (if demons could even be said to feel respect) for the trust it would have taken to do such a thing. It still pissed her off, but it was definitely badass. 

She reached out with her aura, connecting her own to Gabriel's at only the junctions where it was necessary- his hands and his wings. She poured her energy into his hands and down his back, her fingertips twitching as she realized she could _feel_ him. Feel his claws and his wings as if she had slid inside his corporation like a glove. She yelped in pain as the nerves in her wings connected with his, the burned and torn flesh clinging to the broken bones now entirely hers. She focused on that first, the pain making her eyes water and her head swim. She almost couldn’t do it- the very simple task of willing away his wings. She’d done it countless times before, but the pain that pulsed there made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything other than subduing the urge to scream. She choked out a breath when she finally managed, though her eyes shot open when Gabriel yanked his hands away from her upturned palms, breaking the bond between them. She barely caught him as he collapsed forward, his forehead resting on her shoulder as he gasped. His shoulders shook, and she slowly reached up to pull him into an embrace. She couldn’t put a finger on what she felt in that moment. Something in her chest… _ached_. 

She pushed him back gently, holding her hands out once more. “The claws. Then that’s it. It'll all be… over…” she stammered, realizing the half truth she'd just spilled. Yes, his _fall_ would be over. But his existence as a demon… that would never end. 

He placed his hands in hers, and this time, she succeeded much quicker. She barely had time to close her fingertips around his hands before his claws retracted, leaving his hands looking exactly as they had when he was an angel. He stared at them for a long time, his eyes tumultuously dark. 

“Gabriel… I need… I need you to be strong. I can’t be gentle with you like this forever,” she said, attempting to get her voice to a reasonable level of sternness. She may have failed in that regard. 

She placed a hand on the side of his neck, shaking him gently to grab his attention. He dragged his eerie eyes up reluctantly to meet hers. 

“You are a demon now,” she said, hating the way he winced. “You are a demon of Hell and that makes me your superior. I know this was the hardest thing you’ve ever done and trust me… you won’t ever feel the same. But you _will_ be ok. You were the Archangel Gabriel, for Satan's sake.” 

He swallowed hard, his lips pursing as he swallowed a flash of anger. How she wished he would _say something_. He hadn’t spoken a word since before the cellar. She waited for him to reply, and when it became obvious that he wouldn’t, she nodded, pulling her hand away from his neck. She couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to twitch toward her, as if he were stopping himself from reaching out for her. 

“Come join us when you’re ready,” she said, steeling herself and climbing from the bed, fighting some very strange instincts that begged her to turn back. She closed the door behind her, leaning back against it and sighing as she tried to force out all of those emotions that had swallowed her entirely while she was in that room. Those emotions weren’t hers. She wasn’t supposed to feel them. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be to banish them. 

She was surprised to find Aziraphale and Crowley lounging at the dining room table, enjoying a bottle of Scotch. Had they really been here waiting for four days? 

They seemed just as surprised to see her, and they both straightened, watching her with intent eyes as she trudged to the nearest chair and collapsed heavily into it. She tried to plaster that same expression of annoyance on her face that she always wore. 

“You look like hell,” Crowley said, and she tossed him the most searing glare she could muster. He huffed out a breath, then fetched another glass, pouring a hefty serving of Scotch into it and sliding it over to her. She caught it just before it tipped over the edge of the table, then pulled it up to her nose and sniffed it suspiciously. She frowned down at it, the burn in her nose reminding her of the tar pits. 

“Trust me, if there was ever a day to start drinking, it's today,” Crowley said, taking a sip from his drink and watching her. She took a tentative sip, decided she liked it, and downed the rest of it. She slammed the glass down in front of Crowley and motioned for him to fill it again. He grinned in surprise at Aziraphale, then poured her another glass. 

“How’s um… how’s the patient?” Aziraphale asked, and Beelzebub took another gulp of alcohol in preparation for answering his question. 

“I don’t… know. He hasn’t spoken since the cellar,” she mumbled, feeling like she needed a lot more of this alcohol stuff as it numbed all the jitters in her body. 

“Is that… such a bad thing?” Crowley asked, and Beelzebub resisted the urge to throw her drink across the table at him, but then she couldn’t drink it. That was the only reason she didn’t. 

Instead she simply _glowered_ at him. 

“Is he… alright?” Aziraphale interrupted, tossing a reproachful look at Crowley. His concern was genuine enough that it made Beelzebub fidget in her seat. “No,” she said, her voice cracking as she felt herself tipping toward emotional distress again. She reached up under her collar and found Moloch there, the relief flowing through her at his presence. A little bit of _home_. Of _her_. Beelzebub. Lord of the Flies. A ruthless demon. Prince of Hell. Not this… _mess._

She pulled her hand out in front of her and watched the little fly wandering over her knuckles, before she gently brushed him onto the table. Without a word, she stood and retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen, returning to her chair and dipping her pinky into the water, allowing a tiny droplet to bead onto the wood next to Moloch. She folded her hands on the table and rested her chin on top of them, watching happily as Moloch approached the droplet, his little front legs dipping into it and rubbing together as he drank in the moisture. She felt a contented sigh leave her lips, before she glanced up and found an angel and a demon staring at her. 

“What?” she asked, straightening and trying to wipe away the affection she'd let slip out. “Moloch deserves the same respect as any other being. He's one of God’s creaturezzz,” she said, unsure of why she suddenly felt defensive. She expected any number of responses from either one of them, but what she received instead was a punch to the gut. 

Aziraphale reached over the table and placed a hand on top of hers, smiling warmly. “As are you.” 

_Oh shit._

_No no no no no. You shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t be saying these things about you. You’re a demon. Why would he say that?_

_…_

_Probably because you've shown the same kind of compassion for the helpless creature on the table as you did for the helpless creature in the bedroom down the hall._

She pulled her hand away from Aziraphale and downed the rest of her Scotch. 

“You might want to take it easy on that stuff. It's pretty strong and if you've… never…” Crowley drifted off, and Beelzebub noticed him and Aziraphale both straighten stiffly in their chairs, their eyes glued down the hall. She whipped around when she heard the floor creak. 

Gabriel approached, his movements sluggish as he plopped into the chair next to Beelzebub, his arms folding on the table as he let his forehead drop heavily to rest against his forearm. He lifted one hand and pointed vaguely in the direction of Crowley and Aziraphale. His voice was gravelly from disuse, and even muffled against his arm, his first words as a truly fallen angel were clear. 

“What… _the fuck_ … are these two idiots doing here?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 8 chapters of angst, it was time for a little comic relief. So now, I present to you, one of my Favorite ThingsTM I've ever written. Enjoy.

“Azz much azz it pains me to admit it, Gabriel…” Beelzebub stuttered, her eyes flickering in the direction of Crowley and Aziraphale, before she stared down at her lap. 

“If thezze two weren’t here… you wouldn’t be either.” 

Gabriel sat up in his chair, his opalescent eyes settling on Aziraphale for quite a while before he glanced over at Crowley. The tension in the room was stifling, and Beelzebub felt a nagging desire to duck beneath the table until the proverbial battle was over. 

Finally Gabriel leaned forward, swiping the bottle of Scotch and taking a swig straight out of the bottle, much to the chagrin of Crowley and Aziraphale. 

“I thought you didn’t… _sully the temple of your celestial body with gross matter,_ ” Aziraphale said, his tone positively _dripping_ with sarcasm. 

Gabriel looked at him with murder in his eyes, before glancing down at his corporation. “What’s the point? I’m a demon. My body _is_ gross matter now.” 

Crowley scoffed and made an obvious show of gesturing to his own corporation. “Speak for yourself.” 

“Is it normal for voices to sound this grating after you've fallen or are you always this irritating?” Gabriel snapped back. 

Crowley stood quickly, knocking his chair backwards and slamming his palms down on the table as he released a threatening _hiss_. Gabriel rocketed to his feet, his claws extending as he released a low, demonic growl. Within a second, his wings also appeared, turning his growl to a pitiful whine as his knees buckled. Beelzebub jumped up to catch him, tossing a snarl back at Crowley, her eyes beginning to simmer toward red. 

“That’s enough!” Aziraphale shouted as he stood, the command in his voice making everyone freeze. “I am the only angel here and _so help me_ I will smite all of you!” 

Beelzebub straightened, her hands still clutching Gabriel as he threatened to collapse, and Crowley backed away from the table slightly. 

“Sit down, _now!_ ” Aziraphale yelled, and they all obeyed promptly, Beelzebub lowering Gabriel back into a chair and helping him retract his claws and vanish his wings, her hand gripping his beneath the table. 

“Gabriel, I do hope you realize what everyone in this room has done. Crowley and I opened up our home to you because you had nowhere else to go. Beelzebub risked… well _everything_ to keep you from falling into the Pit, an action which I can only assume puts her in Satan's bad graces. And Crowley, if you weren't spending so much energy thinking of clever ways to insult Gabriel, perhaps you would’ve noticed that the situation he and Beelzebub find themselves in is rather similar to a certain Antichrist debacle we royally botched. Now if you all would stop _antagonizing_ each other, I think you'd realize we're on the same side here, because presently, none of us _have a side_. So if you could all stop acting like such… _bloody demons!_ ” 

He dropped into his seat heavily, picking up his glass of Scotch and downing its contents before slamming the glass down and folding his arms in a huff. The silence that followed was deafening. 

Crowley nodded, standing and fetching an extra glass from the kitchen. He returned and poured a hefty glass of Scotch, setting it gently in front of Gabriel as a ceremonial peace offering, before he went to stand behind Aziraphale and rest a hand on his friend’s shoulder, the angel patting it gratefully. Gabriel stared at the glass for a moment, before reaching forward and gripping it with shaking fingers. He forced a smile, and tipped his glass toward the both of them. 

“Excellent,” Aziraphale said as he clapped his hands together, accompanied by a chipper smile that was somehow also a thinly veiled warning not to pull any of that sort of nonsense again. 

“If it’s alright with everyone here, I think tensions are running a bit high and frankly, I’d like to get absolutely sloshed.” 

Beelzebub glanced at Gabriel, and they shared a rather unexpected grin. 

“I’ve never been drunk before,” she said, and Gabriel nodded. “Neither have I.” 

“Well, look at that. _Bonding_ ,” Aziraphale said smugly, to which he received two very demonic glares. 

“Right,” Crowley said, taking a seat across from Beelzebub and topping off everyone's glasses. “Let’s get you two absolutely pissed.” 

*** 

“Wait wait wait… 'splain it again,” Beelzebub slurred, holding her glass up for Crowley to top off, which he did, after a few missed attempts. Crowley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So the kid was supposed to go to the American diplomat. I dun… I dunno what went wrong. I handed the bloody thing off to one of the nuns, she must’ve… I dunno. Makes muh brain hurt.” 

“So… so how wazzzz it supozzzed to work * _hick* fuck!_ ” Beelzebub cursed at her own hiccups, Crowley giggling at her. 

“I believe, and please, feel free to inter… interrrj… um… feel free to jump in Crowley because 'm not entirely sure if I understand this right…” Aziraphale blubbered, wavering in his chair. “I think… the Antichrist was supposed to be swapped with the diplomat's child, but there was erm… another couple there that wasn’t supposed to be there and…” Aziraphale trailed off, his brow furrowing as his brain fizzled. 

Gabriel lay on the floor behind Beelzebub, tossing a croquet ball into the air and catching it (nobody quite knew _where_ he'd obtained a croquet ball, only that he was keeping himself quietly entertained and that was alright). He caught the ball and stopped, tapping it against his chin as he wrestled with the baby exchange scenario. He sat up quickly, startling Beelzebub and making her spill a bit of her drink. 

“So if… if the Youngs weren’t supposed to get the Antichrist, but they did, and the Americans ended up with the Young's kid… what… what happened to the third baby?” he asked, his expression twisting into the kind of face that resulted from trying to think really hard after drinking. 

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, then back at Gabriel. 

“Well that’s… no one ever… you know Gabriel I think you’re the first person to ask that,” Aziraphale said, seeming suddenly very concerned about an eleven year old orphan somewhere. 

“Well fuck me, all you've gotta do is liquor him up and he becomes kinda smart,” Crowley said, barely managing to duck an incoming croquet ball. 

“So then… you two…” Gabriel started giggling, standing and wobbling dangerously before catching himself on the back of Beelzebub's chair. “You spent… _eleven years_ … trying to influence the wrong damn kid?!” he asked, leaning heavily on Beelzebub's chair as he guffawed. Beelzebub giggled with him, taking a sip of her Scotch as she eyed Crowley. 

“How’d the American kid turn out? Seriously I'm dying to know,” Gabriel asked, still giggling as he refilled his glass and clinked it drunkenly against Beelzebub's. 

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a glance, and even as Aziraphale started to defend the child, saying something about him being “as decent as an American can,” Crowley interrupted him. 

“Naaah. He's a shit. A right little shit.” 

“Crowley, that's a bit harsh…” 

“Don’t start. I found birthday cake in my _ear_.” 

“Well whose fault is that?! If he's a brat, that's all your fault I only…” 

“ _Please!_ He learned that from you! _You're_ the one who went to France during the bloody revolution cuz you got _peckish_.” 

“Wait wait wait,” Gabriel said, waving his hands drunkenly and taking the seat next to Beelzebub. Crowley didn’t even give him the chance to ask, just bulldozed right into the story. “He _did!_ Nearly got himself _decapitated!_ For some _crepes!_ ” 

Gabriel wheezed a drawn out laugh, his forehead falling against the table as Aziraphale straightened his coat and shifted grumpily in his seat. 

“Oh right, good fun, Crowley, excellent. Make a fool of me in front of my, well… _ex_ boss. Shall I tell Beelzebub how _you_ rescued _me_ in France and then joined me for said crepes? Hmm? Could’ve let the humans do the dirty work of removing your adversary from the equation but you _didn’t_ because you're just _nice_ like that,” Aziraphale said, observing the look of horror on Crowley's face and wiggling righteously in his chair as he sipped his Scotch. 

Beelzebub arched an eyebrow at Crowley, her expression unreadable as she considered her response. Instead of speaking to either one of them, she turned to Gabriel and held up her glass. “Seems to me we should’ve started drinking a long time ago with thezze two idiots under our command.” 

Gabriel nodded, his glass clicking against hers before they both took a large gulp. 

“Oh come now. Neither one of _you_ is perfect,” Aziraphale said, leaning forward and pointing accusingly at both of them. “You must've screwed something up over the last few millennia?” 

Beelzebub and Gabriel both shared a glance, apparently coming to some realization together, before they stumbled over their words, speaking at the same. 

“Nope, I'm perfect, you don't know what you're talking about.” 

“I never screw up. I'm royalty for Satan'zzz sake.” 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged grins, before Crowley topped off all the glasses, the bottle somehow never dwindling even though they all had been drinking for several hours. 

A few more sips of alcohol was all it took to loosen up some tight-lipped demons. 

“I bet I know yourzzzz, Gabriel,” Beelzebub teased, and his jaw dropped. 

“You absolutely do not, no one knows my screw-ups.” 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any?” 

Gabriel fumbled over his words as Beelzebub chuckled at him. 

“I’m betting… it’s that time you got _written up_ for revealing yourself to an entire village.” 

“Gabriel got _written up?!_ ” Aziraphale shouted, leaning forward with very piqued interest and attempting to focus on Beelzebub. 

“Now, wait, that’s not entirely accurate. I _did_ get written up but it was all a misunderstanding…” 

“Be honest Gabriel. You couldn’t handle the situation and you freaked out and smited… smote… _fuck_ … an entire village,” Beelzebub teased, watching Gabriel trying desperately to _shush_ her. 

“Well… that wouldn’t have happened if you'd just… been professional about it.” 

“Wait,” Crowley interrupted, his spindly fingers pointing at the both of them. 

“I’m getting the distinct impression that this incident involved _both_ of you. Don't tell me… both your big fuck-ups involved _each other…_ ” 

Gabriel and Beelzebub both resembled a bicyclist in the Bentley’s headlights. 

“It was her fault,” Gabriel said quickly, to which Beelzebub smacked his arm. 

“It wazzzzz not. Alright, here'zzz what happened…” 

“No, you're gonna tell it wrong…” 

“Gabriel, I will shove the next croquet ball down your throat…” 

He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and making murder eyes at Crowley and Aziraphale, who were sniggering across the table. 

“I wazzzz given a mission on Earth. I know, don’t give me that look, Crowley, it wazzz a very important job and… Satan trusted only hizzz highest ranking officer to get it done.” 

Crowley pouted, even though everyone knew he probably wouldn’t have _wanted_ the job even if he’d been trusted with it. 

“It was a small village in France. Sometime in the 1600s, don’t remember when. There had been a string of demonic possessions that century and Satan was very pleased with the outcome. So many priests were burned at the stake,” Beelzebub said, a proud smile spreading across her lips as she saw Aziraphale squirm uncomfortably. 

“Well this little town sat on top of one of the Gates of Hell. Even with all the demonic energy coming out of the Gate, somehow the humanzzz kept expelling the demonzz who tried to possess anyone there. Come to find out, that wazzz because they had help from the… _other side,_ ” she said, glaring at Gabriel. “A certain Archangel had been supplying blessed items to aid the priests, in an attempt to turn the village into one of their strongholds. Once they had the village in their pocket, they planned to destroy the Gate. Hence, Satan sent yourzzz truly to make sure that village either remained ours, or was destroyed entirely.” 

“Basically if they couldn’t have it, no one could,” Gabriel said, and Beelzebub nodded happily. 

“Exactly. Which wazzz why I wazz so ruthless in my possessions. I didn’t possess the same person for longer than a few hourzz, just long enough to send panic through the town and overwhelm the priests. By the time half the people in the village had been possessed, I guess someone prayed to their _guardian angel_ and he decided to show up.” 

“I tried to be gentle, Beelz, I really did…” 

“You absolutely did not you wanker! Long story short, once he figured out it wazz me that wazzz possessing people, he freaked out…” 

“I did not _freak out_.” 

“He freaked out, revealed his wings to an entire village of people and attempted the most hilarious exorcism I think I've ever seen.” 

“No, _no!_ See I knew you'd tell it wrong. I didn’t reveal my wings until _after_ you had already attempted to possess _me_ which I don’t need to tell anyone is _fucking insane_. You were being insane and you tried to possess an angel.” 

“Alright, I admit I got carried away. That many possessions in such a short amount of time wazzz messing with me. I think I left bits of myself behind on a few of them. Still worth it to experience an angel's complete meltdown,” she started giggling uncontrollably at the way Gabriel's face burned red. 

“Is that even possible? A demon possessing an angel?” Aziraphale asked, glancing at Crowley who seemed too drunk to even follow the conversation. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Gabriel said, glancing at Beelzebub and looking at her with something dangerously like admiration. “But she damn near succeeded.” 

“Scared the shit out of him.” 

“I was not _scared_ …” 

“Then _pleazzze_ explain why you revealed your wings, accidentally smited _everyone_ , then discorporated yourself while we were both accessing your corporation.” 

“Well I… got rid of the demon didn’t I?” 

Beelzebub guffawed, collapsing forward onto the table. “Yes, Gabriel, you did. Well spotted. Bang up job, you murdered a bunch of humans, I don’t know why they didn’t give you a bloody _medal!_ ” she laughed against the table. 

Gabriel frowned, swirling the Scotch in his glass. 

“I didn’t mean to kill them. I just kind of… combusted Holy energy.” 

Beelzebub laughed harder against the table. “You 'sploded.” 

The room was quiet for a while as they all attempted to unpack what they'd heard, the occasional giggle mingled in. Crowley finally piped up. 

“Well no wonder we started drinking when we did, Aziraphale. We’ve had morons for bosses.”


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley didn’t know how long they'd been drinking, but he was fairly sure it was _too long_. He didn’t really have a good grasp of time, with how drunk he was, but he was certain he hadn’t heard anyone speak in quite a while. He glanced over the table, finding Beelzebub passed out on the table and Gabriel slumped back in his chair, mouth agape as he, too, was entirely unconscious. 

“Shit. I think we broke 'em,” he slurred, and Aziraphale jumped, apparently startled out of some far-off drunken thoughts. He leaned back and grinned at the two of them. “Oh I s'pose you’re right. I think it went rather well, don’t you? Nothing to bring people together like a good Scotch.” 

Crowley nodded 'yes,' then frowned and changed it to 'no.’ 

“I dunno, still don’t trust 'em. Beelzebub knows what we did. _Shit_. I don’t want to think about this. ‘M gonna sober up.” 

“Me too.” 

They both banished the astonishing amount of alcohol from their systems, before staring at each other, then the two passed out demons at the table. 

“What do we do with them?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley shrugged. 

Aziraphale approached the two of them, seeming physically unnerved by the idea of touching Gabriel. He poked his shoulder ineffectually once, then shook him a bit harder and yelped when he woke with a start. Beelzebub jolted awake beside him, moaning when she winced against the dining room light. 

“So sorry to bother you but… perhaps you should sober up.” 

“We can do that?” Gabriel asked, and Beelzebub sat up next to him, rubbing her eyes. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale said curtly. 

Gabriel's brow furrowed, and he made a grimace. “How?” 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a confused glance. Neither one quite knew how to describe sobering up. 

“I don’t know you just… do.” 

“Well that’s helpful, Aziraphale. How did you do it? You know, the first time?” Gabriel asked, and Aziraphale giggled nervously. 

“Oh Heavens I don’t remember! That must’ve been… five thousand years ago.” 

Gabriel tried to look up at him judgingly but it might've been more intimidating if his eyelids were at equal heights. 

Beelzebub made a grunting noise, then collapsed back into her chair. “Nope. Still drunk. Unrelated question… how many Gabriels are there supposed to be?” she asked, her hand reaching over and landing on his face after several swirls around it. 

“Ooohhhkay, if you two can’t sober up then you're just going to sleep it off. The hangover will be Hell, though,” Aziraphale said, smiling at his own pun as he looked over at Crowley. Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Right,” Aziraphale said, awkwardly grasping Gabriel's upper arm and pulling him to his feet. 

“I dun… need help…” Gabriel argued, before falling back into his seat. He huffed in embarrassment. “I need help.” 

“Yes _I know_ ,” Aziraphale said, somewhat annoyed, as he helped Gabriel to his feet. Beelzebub looked up at Crowley as he went to do the same. 

“Touch me and lozzze a hand,” she snapped, Crowley withdrawing his hand and looking nervously at Aziraphale. Gabriel reached back for her and dragged her to her feet as he and Aziraphale stumbled down the hall, his hand still clutching hers when they rounded the hallway to the bedroom. Gabriel trudged to the bed and fell face first into it, Aziraphale looking nervously back at Beelzebub. 

“There’s um… some extra blankets and pillows if you wanted to er… sleep in the chair…” he said, wringing his hands nervously. 

Beelzebub wavered drunkenly, then approached the bed and tossed Gabriel's feet up onto it. “’Zzzzz fine,” she mumbled, before crawling over Gabriel and passing out next to him. 

“Well alright then,” Aziraphale said, stepping out of the bedroom and allowing Crowley to follow before closing the door. Crowley tucked his hands in his pockets and chuckled as he sauntered down the hall. 

“What’s so funny, Crowley?” 

“’S not so much funny as ironic. Here we thought we were alone all this time. But… there’s been other angels and demons who've… become _friends_.” 

“I don't think what Gabriel and Beelzebub have is exactly what you and I would call _friends_ …” 

“Still though. She cared enough not to let him waste away in the Pit for all eternity. I'm just wondering…” 

He stopped as they reached the living room, turning and leaning against one of the armchairs. 

“What if this was The Plan all along? You and me? What if we were just the start of something? What if… what if God never intended for us to _hate_ each other?” 

*** 

Immediately after waking with a throbbing headache was _not_ the time to get emotionally bulldozed. But that’s exactly what happened. 

Gabriel blinked awake, making a noncommittal noise of disgust at the feeling of cotton in his mouth. He went to wipe his face, but there was something trapping his arm at his side. He glanced down and felt every rational thought wiped clean out of his brain. 

Beelzebub was curled around his arm, her head tucked against his shoulder as she slept. Her short black hair was an absolute mess, but Gabriel found himself gently brushing strands of it away from her forehead. He didn’t even remember sending the instruction from his brain, but the next thing he knew, he had already done it. She groaned in her sleep, her arms tightening around his where she clung to him. 

And that was when it all hit him. His fall. She _caught_ him. She risked _everything_ for him. And then again, once they’d gotten to the cottage… the images came flooding back, albeit a bit fuzzy after that fever had wracked his memories and jumbled them all up. He remembered trying to get her to destroy him. He remembered scratching her face with his new claws, that face that was now tucked so innocently against his shoulder, her cheek long healed of the evidence. _He_ could still see it though. She would always have a scar there, to him. 

He felt his lungs constricting as he caressed his knuckles lightly against that cheek. She shifted again, and he felt the beginnings of tears in his eyes. This demon that he'd considered the most annoying competition for centuries had become something of a constant in his life. It pained him to think that perhaps he wouldn’t have done the same for her, had she been the one in trouble. Would he have risked himself to help her? 

He had to make it right, he decided. He needed to tell her what her actions meant to him. Needed to beg her forgiveness for ever threatening to hurt her, for ever insulting her. All this time he'd thought that falling negated everything that was good and decent about an angel, and yet… she was still as much an angel as her eyes were blue. 

He took one last mental image of her sleeping beside him, as she began to wake. He blinked the few droplets of tears from his eyes and turned his head, pretending to sleep so she wouldn’t catch him watching her. 

*** 

Beelzebub stretched, the warmth next to her making her feel pliant and comfortable. She nudged closer to it, enjoying the softness against her cheek and the familiar scent of clouds and spice. _Gabriel._

_Oh shit Gabriel._

She jumped back, her heart pounding as she realized how close she'd allowed herself to get. Too close, _too close_. 

She swiped a palm roughly against her cheek to get rid of that ghost of a sensation, then rubbed her arms self-consciously. What if he'd been awake?! What if he'd found her like that?! She felt the panic bubbling up in her chest as she crawled from the bed and snuck toward the door. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. No more booze. Never drinking again._

She crept down the hall, the scent of spring blooms drifting along a brisk morning breeze. The windows in the kitchen were open, and she found Aziraphale quietly attending to a coffee pot. She glanced in to the living room to find Crowley sleeping on his stomach on the sofa, one arm flopping lazily onto the floor. It was a surprisingly quiet, peaceful scene. All the more reason for Beelzebub to be concerned at the very stern expression on Aziraphale’s face. 

He handed her a cup of coffee, then tilted his head toward the door, allowing her to go first and closing the French door behind him. His energy was starting to worry her, and she felt her claws itching against the warmth of the coffee mug. 

“Beelzebub, we need to talk…” he said, wandering into the courtyard and turning back to her in a manner that made her feel like a child about to be scolded. She lifted her chin and tried to muster as much confidence as she could. 

“Yes, Azzzziraphale?” she asked, growling imperceptibly at herself for buzzing. 

“What exactly is your plan?” 

She blinked several times. She had never really _had_ a plan. She hadn’t even planned to catch Gabriel until she had already seen him falling and his wings burning. 

“I... well…” she stammered, all the feigned self-confidence draining out of her under Aziraphale’s prying stare. 

“You can’t just… waltz back into Hell with Gabriel by your side and expect everything to be okay.” 

She felt instantly defensive, and allowed her snappy comeback to convey as much. 

“Well of course I wouldn’t do that. I’m not stupid, Azzziraphale.” 

“I’m not saying you are. I’m merely asking… are you going to leave him on Earth while you return Below? I think that’s a very bad idea. Your absence will not have gone unnoticed by now, probably by Satan himself. And if he gets you back in Hell, he'll keep you trapped there while he sends other minions to hunt down Gabriel. And trust me, because I know from personal experience, they _will_ find him, and they will _not_ be gentle with him.” 

Beelzebub fidgeted, only now thinking about the possibility of facing consequences. Of course she always _knew_ she couldn’t just pluck Gabriel out of the sky and deny the Pit of Hell its first fallen angel in millennia. But she had never disobeyed Satan before. _Ever_. She couldn’t even begin to fathom _not_ being his favorite, much less being on his shit list. 

“I don’t… well _dammit_ I don’t _have_ a plan, Aziraphale!” she hissed rather loudly, glancing inside to make sure she hadn’t woken Crowley before taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself. She could at least have a somewhat courteous conversation with Aziraphale, but when Crowley was added to the equation… things tended to get heated rather quickly. She would just prefer to speak to the angel alone at this particular juncture. 

“I don’t know what I wazz thinking. This whole thing wazzz stupid. I should’ve just let him fall. Or destroyed him. Then maybe Satan would’ve assumed that I had some sort of vendetta at least. This way it's _obvious_ that I… that we… _fuck_ what was I thinking?” 

“Okay, okay, just… calm down for a moment, I didn’t mean to upset you…” 

Beelzebub sniffed, suddenly aware that her heart had started pounding rather quickly and she had apparently started pacing, a hand running wildly through her hair and her coffee sloshing out of her mug as she moved. She only noticed she had done any of those things because suddenly Aziraphale was in front of her, both hands on her shoulders as his expression softened. She stepped back out of his grasp, wiping her nose angrily with the back of her hand. 

“I’m not _upset_ ,” she mumbled, and Aziraphale huffed in exasperation. 

“No of course not. And that’s what I thought, that you weren’t really operating under any sort of plan. Which is fine. Sometimes we must… improvise,” he said, and she felt a sudden and unwelcome gratitude for his presence. 

“Just… think about what's next.” 

She considered for a moment, her brain feeling sluggish and stupid. She blamed the alcohol for that. 

“He needs to heal. He won’t be able to control any of his demonic powers until his wings are healed.” 

“Alright. It’s safe here. You both are welcome to stay as long as you need, but…” Aziraphale trailed off, his gaze drifting back into the cottage and settling on Crowley. His chin quivered a bit, before he steeled himself and turned back toward Beelzebub, his eyes suddenly much more austere. 

“I need some assurances. After everything Crowley and I have done to protect each other, I cannot justify continuing to help you if you plan on taking everything away from me. I need… I need to know that you're not going to return to Hell and reveal what Crowley and I did. Because… if you still plan on that… I'm afraid that makes you my enemy. And I will not hesitate to use your weaknesses against you, to protect what I love.” 

Beelzebub felt her heart jump up into her throat and remain there, the thumping of it getting louder and louder in her ears. She wanted to snap at him, to defend herself. To insist she didn’t have any weaknesses and _of course_ she planned to tell Satan about the body swap, because she had to, didn’t she? 

But as she looked into Aziraphale's blue eyes, she saw the fury of God, the likes of which she hadn’t seen since her own fall. He meant what he said. He knew the truth. She did have _one_ weakness. Gabriel. 

She smiled and shook her head incredulously. Between him and Crowley, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that Aziraphale is the ruthless one. 

She offered her hand, which he considered before cautiously shaking it. 

“Deal.”


	11. Chapter 11

“So you really trust me to keep my word? You trust a demon?” Beelzebub asked as they stepped inside the cottage, Aziraphale leaving the French door open to allow the warm morning air inside. She sort of meant it in a teasing way… also sort of didn’t believe he would trust her that easily. 

Aziraphale let out a little chuckle as he fetched the coffee pot and topped off her mug. “My dear I've trusted a demon every day for the last six thousand years. Today it just happens to be a different demon,” he said, smiling at her warmly. Somewhere under that warmth, there was still a threat. _Don't make me regret it-_ it said. 

Aziraphale approached the living room with a spare cup of coffee and set it on the coffee table, his hand gently rousing Crowley from his sleep. Crowley sat up and smiled at him, taking his coffee and blowing on it. “Thanks, angel,” he whispered as Aziraphale sat next to him on the sofa. 

Beelzebub felt an instant pang of guilt and jealousy that hit her like a freight train. What if… what if things had been like this between her and Gabriel all along? What would have been different? Would she have tried to stop Armageddon too? If she knew the end of everything meant losing him forever? 

The thought terrified her, and she tried to banish it before she could think too much about it. That nagging sense of dread just wouldn’t go away, though. It just kept getting closer, like the beating of wings. It pulsed through her so incessantly that her grip slackened on her mug until it slipped, shattering on the ground and spraying coffee all over the floor. Both Crowley and Aziraphale stood, but neither were looking at her. Their eyes were wide and focused just behind her. 

She spun on her heel and knew instantly where that sense of dread had come from. _Sandalphon_. 

“Should have known,” he said, a disquieting smile on his lips as he stepped through the doors, miracling his wings away and folding his hands in front of him. Beelzebub retreated quickly, emitting a low demonic growl as she extended her claws. Aziraphale placed a hand gently on her arm, her hands lowering but her claws remaining intact. 

“Should have known you'd be involved somehow, Aziraphale,” Sandalphon said, glancing around the cottage and turning his nose up. 

“Sandalphon, I thought I made myself perfectly clear…” Aziraphale started, but Sandalphon interrupted. 

“Oh you did. I'm not here for you _or_ your boyfriend, so don’t worry about that. I think you all know what I'm here for. Where is he?” 

Beelzebub began growling again, her entire body shaking with the effort of restraining herself. She wanted to rocket straight across the cottage and tear his throat out. She didn’t know why, but Sandalphon had always unnerved her. Something about his energy screamed _danger_. He couldn’t possibly want anything good with Gabriel. Her fingers twitched as she imagined sinking her claws into him, but Aziraphale still had a hand on her arm. It was strangely reminiscent of an anchor to a ship in rough seas. 

“Who?” Aziraphale asked, and Sandalphon shook his head as he laughed. 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Aziraphale, we all know you’re far more clever than you let on. I just want to know if the rumors are true. Although the fact that _she's_ here is almost all the confirmation I need,” he said, pointing a stubby finger at Beelzebub. 

“What the hell izzz that supposed to mean?” Beelzebub snarled, Aziraphale clamping his hand on her arm in an attempt to quiet her. 

“Oh come now, _demon_ , you don't think word travels in Heaven? There’s even talk that you were the one who tempted him to fall…” 

She yanked away from Aziraphale and stormed forward until she was face to face with Sandalphon, her entire body shaking with rage as angry tears rimmed her eyes. 

“Get out,” she growled. 

“You know, normally I'd say Beelzebub is being rather rude but I must admit I agree with her, Sandalphon,” Aziraphale said as he approached and flanked behind Beelzebub, Crowley doing the same. “I think you should leave.” 

Sandalphon glanced between Crowley and Aziraphale, then settled his gaze on Beelzebub. Even with Crowley and Aziraphale backing her up, she still felt unsettled. She tried to muster all her courage as she allowed her eyes to revert to demonic red. 

“Careful, Prince,” Sandalphon said, stepping forward into her personal space and making her heart jump. 

“You’re starting to sound awfully protective of your little _fallen pet_. I should think Michael might have some contacts that would be _very_ interested in that information…” 

Before she could stop herself, she thrust her claws into the lapel of his coat, her wings appearing and rocketing her forward, slamming him hard against the wall. She tapped into her primal demonic energy, her teeth sharpening into points as she snarled, preparing to tear out his throat. 

She was yanked back by her wings, _hard_ , and skidded back across the hardwood floor, Crowley and Aziraphale both catching her by her arms. She looked up frantically at her attacker and nearly choked. 

Gabriel stood between her and Sandalphon, his burned wings spread in an attempt to shield Sandalphon. His claws were out, though his hands shook from the pain of having his wings exposed. Was he really… _protecting_ Sandalphon?! 

“Gabriel, _what the hell?!_ ” she shrieked, and he winced. 

“I’m sorry, Beelz, just… please don’t hurt him,” he pleaded, his voice much weaker than she had expected it to be. She shook off Crowley and Aziraphale and straightened. Her eyes stung, and she wasn’t sure why. 

Sandalphon began laughing, the sound so sinister that even Beelzebub shivered. He walked slowly around Gabriel's wing, his eyes studying the burned feathers with obvious disgust. His laughing didn’t cease until he stopped in front of Gabriel, bouncing on the balls of his feet and smiling condescendingly. 

“Well isn’t this _rich_. Poor, poor fallen angel. Still defending an old colleague in the hopes of one day being _forgiven?_ ” Sandalphon sneered, Gabriel averting his eyes and wincing away from his words. Beelzebub felt something in her chest twist at the way he shrunk away from Sandalphon. 

“Well I'm sorry to break this to you, but that’ll never happen. You're damned. This…” he flicked a finger against Gabriel’s burned feathers, over an obviously broken bone and making him hiss in pain. “Is what you are now. A filthy… _demon._ ” 

Beelzebub rushed him, but Gabriel held out a hand and growled at her. Sandalphon chuckled, leaning forward until his face was centimeters from Gabriel's. “You’re _pathetic_.” 

Before anyone could make another move, Sandalphon smiled wickedly and snapped a finger, disappearing with a _'pop.’_

Beelzebub felt torn between anguish and rage. Gabriel's hope of forgiveness was heartbreaking, but his restraining her had put them all in grave danger. She settled on rage. 

“Gabriel, what have you done?!” she seethed, moving into his line of sight as he continued to avert his eyes. He refused to look at her, his head bowed in shame as his wings and hands trembled. He sniffed, but didn’t answer her. 

“Do you realizzze what you’ve done?! I could have kept him quiet. I could have made sure he never saw Heaven again. Now they all know where we are. _Michael_ knowzzz where we are. You think she won't share that information with her contacts? You're not strong enough to defend yourself yet, you want to take on a team of mercenary demons whose sole purpose is to locate you and drag you back to Hell? Or are you expecting _me_ to defend you against all those demons? Because _guess what_ … I can't do that. I'm here on borrowed time. When Satan finds out what I've done…” her voice balled up in the back of her throat, and she realized she had started crying. She gasped, trying to swallow all her rage and sorrow. 

Gabriel had started shaking, his eyes also rimmed with tears. He stepped forward, his hand slipping into hers and squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, Beelz,” he whispered. She heard a snap of fingers, and Gabriel was gone. 

Her hand closed where his had been, and she looked down at it in a panic. “No,” she whispered in the moment between heartbeats. 

_He shouldn’t have been strong enough to miracle himself yet. But he did. Where would he have gone? To Heaven, to beg forgiveness? Or worse, to Hell, to turn himself in? What if something happens to him and I'm not there to protect him?_

Beelzebub's legs gave out, and she fell to her knees as she choked out a sob. _I didn't mean it, I didn’t mean it! I **would** take on all of Hell for you. Just please come back…_

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and pivoted on her knees to look up at Aziraphale. She knew she must look more desperate than ever, but she didn’t care. 

“I can’t lose him, Aziraphale,” she whimpered, chin quivering as the tears spilled over. He dropped quickly to his knees, all pretense gone as he pulled her into an embrace. Normally she would have struggled or slapped anyone who tried to touch her, but right now, Aziraphale's warmth was everything. She wrapped her arms around him and cried into his shoulder, his hand cradling the back of her head as he held her. 

“I know. We don't know where he's gone, we can still find him. It's… everything's going to be fine…” he said, and for the first time she heard the conviction in his voice falter. 

“Tell you what,” Crowley said, and Beelzebub pulled away from Aziraphale, finding Crowley crouched behind him. His serpentine eyes were soft, and he looked almost… sympathetic? 

“You find Gabriel. Aziraphale and I will run damage control. They won’t expect us to just waltz in the front door at Head Office. They'll be shitting themselves,” Crowley said with a grin, and Aziraphale leaned back, tapping his arm. 

“That’s an excellent idea, dear boy. Better yet…” he held out his hand toward Crowley and arched an eyebrow mischievously. “I’ll take Hell, you take Heaven?” 

Crowley placed his hand in Aziraphale's, but Beelzebub covered both their hands with hers. 

“No. I can’t… you shouldn’t take that kind of risk for us. You've done enough,” she said, her shoulders sinking. 

“Nuh uh, you're stuck with us now, Beelzebub. Should’ve thought about that before you asked for our help,” Crowley said, his eyebrows arched insistently at her. “Besides… this is just… what friends do. We look out for each other, right?” 

She stared into his yellow eyes, and for the first time, she felt like she actually _saw_ him. 

“Crowley…” she said, the name sounding strangely right as it left her lips. She hadn't called him anything other than 'traitor' since Armageddon. 

“Don't mention it. Seriously. It's weird. Right, we doin this?” he asked Aziraphale, and before either could hesitate, their auras left their bodies, for a moment mingling almost as one being, before settling in each other's corporation. 

Beelzebub jumped back, startled to see the action in person. It was stupid, dangerous, and unnecessarily vulnerable. It was also one of the most selfless acts of devotion anyone could show their friend. To do it more than once was utter insanity. 

Beelzebub took Aziraphale's hand, (which she realized was actually Crowley now) as he helped her to her feet. She was terrified of what came next, but strangely she felt relieved to have these two on her side. She had begrudgingly accepted the fact that Gabriel had become her friend over the last millennia or so. She rescued him because she didn’t know how to come to terms with that, but she didn’t want to lose him to the Pit while she took her time figuring it out. She swallowed a lump in her throat and glanced between the masqueraded angel and demon before her, feeling something warm in her ribcage that she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. She had been prepared to deal with the daunting reality that Gabriel might actually be her friend. She had been entirely unprepared to gain two more friends in the process.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that warrants the self-harm tag! Just so everyone is aware.

Aziraphale felt oddly more comfortable in Crowley's corporation the second time around. He knew what to expect, at least. Long limbs, pliant muscles, and eyesight that made everything warp strangely around anything warm, like the mirage on a desert horizon. It had been jarring the first time, and although he still didn’t feel at all comfortable in this corporation, it was _Crowley's_ , so it was welcoming. 

“Stay here, just for a bit while we pop to Head Offices. We'll communicate with you through the television, let you know what’s going on. If he's not in Hell or Heaven, then you just worry about finding him. We'll erm… _ruffle some feathers_ , as it were. Keep them off your trail and buy you some time. Alright?” he asked, and upon seeing the petrified expression on Beelzebub's face, decided to get a move on. 

“Right. Come on Crowley. Er, _angel,_ ” he said with a hearty giggle. It was very strange to watch himself roll his eyes in that dramatic Crowley way. 

They both stepped outside, still getting used to the feeling of their strange appendages. Crowley turned, wobbling a little from spinning so quickly in a heftier corporation, before he managed to balance himself. “Your feet are weird,” he mumbled, and Aziraphale frowned. 

“Well your legs are weird. How do you walk in these things?” 

“With style, angel, with style,” Crowley said, his debonair smile actually managing to look somewhat cheeky on Aziraphale’s rounder face. 

“Alright, enough. We've got work to do. I suggest we miracle ourselves back to The Tower and just take the main entrance. It'll be quicker.” 

“Good thinking. I left the Bentley there. Poor thing's probably got a boot by now. Or worse, impounded.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and rested a hand on Crowley's arm, preparing to miracle them both, but he hesitated, glancing back into the cottage one last time. Beelzebub was nervously pacing the dining room, and he could barely make out the flicker of her little fly, Moloch, as it buzzed even more anxiously around her head. 

“Crowley... tell me something, before we go…” he said, his tone obviously more hushed and serious. Crowley clearly heard the change in tone, because he stilled to give the question his proper attention. 

“You've been fairly… against all of this, from the start. Helping them, that is. But now you're willing to do this with me, risk another body swap. Why?” 

Crowley's mouth opened as if he might respond, but it closed slowly as he considered. He also glanced back at Beelzebub, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“That moment… when she turned to you and she thought she might've lost him. Like really lost him forever. I guess… I realized you were right all along. She does love him. It’s weird and it’s fucked up and they don’t treat each other the way you and I do but… the look on her face when she said she couldn’t bear to lose him. I've… been there. It's the worst feeling in the world and… I wouldn't wish it on anybody. Not her. Not even him. So I guess, I'm all in this now, yeah?” 

Aziraphale felt the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “Oh, Crowley,” he whispered, pulling Crowley into a hug. Crowley hesitated, surprised by the sudden show of affection, but wrapped his arms warmly around Aziraphale, cherishing the moment for quite a while. 

“I’m hugging my own corporation, and it's weird,” Crowley said eventually, and Aziraphale chuckled as he pulled away from the embrace. 

“Indeed. Shall we?” 

“Bugger all this for a lark,” Crowley said, snapping his fingers and miracling them both straight to Head Office. 

*** 

Beelzebub had been pacing the cottage long enough that she was sure the tread she'd worn in the rug was about to catch fire. She hated this- not knowing. She was in control of everything when she was in Hell. Every demon, every deed, every order. _Herself_. But here, on this chaotic Earth with all these emotions and connections and pieces of herself scattered to the wind- it felt like everything was spinning out of control. She hated it. 

The television snapped on quietly, though she still yelped embarrassingly and jumped. Crowley and Aziraphale appeared to be inhabiting the set of a somewhat dated sitcom, and Crowley was mumbling something about “Why’d it have to be Golden Girls?” 

“Well?!” she snapped, realizing her tone was a bit demanding. She held a hand out for Moloch and he landed there, the rubbing of his wings soothing her nerves enough that she could take a breath. 

“Have you found anything?” she asked with forced calm. 

“He's not in Hell. Although the demons of the Pit are going absolutely feral over being denied a fallen angel. They erm… I guess they were really looking forward to uh… chewing their new toy, as it were,” Aziraphale-as-Crowley said, his hands wringing in a nervous manner that she was sure she'd never seen Crowley do. 

“Not in Heaven either. Sandalphon is up to something. Nothing good, to be sure, so you’d better get a move on. Although I'm pretty sure I caught Michael mid phone call. Don’t know who she was communicating with, but I tossed her phone out the window and into the Pit, so that put a stop to that,” Crowley-as-Aziraphale said, looking far too pleased with himself for such a cherubic angel. 

“So then he must be on Earth somewhere. But where would he have gone?” she mumbled to herself, her line of thought cut off as someone off screen of the television began yelling in an old woman's voice. Crowley and Aziraphale looked off in different directions, then glanced back at each other. 

“Gotta go. Gonna have to start some more mischief on my end if I'm gonna keep them busy.” 

“Same here. I knocked over a filing cabinet and Dagon is apparently on the war path.” 

“Alright, I'll start searching for Gabriel here on Earth,” Beelzebub said, turning to leave but hesitating. She whipped around and dropped to her knees, both hands on either side of the TV. 

“Crowley. Aziraphale,” she said, catching them both before they walked off screen. 

“Thank you. Be careful,” she said quickly, before flicking the knob to 'off.’ 

She stood and shivered once, trying to rid herself of the sentimentality that had just spewed from her. _Gross_. 

She began pacing again, trying to think of anywhere Gabriel might go. He had no meaningful connections to anyone or anything here on Earth, it was just a place he sometimes visited for work. The only place she'd ever seen him visit multiple times was… 

That village. In France. Where he had tried to exorcise her and gotten discorporated. 

It was worth a shot. 

“Moloch, hang on tight. We're going to France,” she mumbled, making sure the fly was safe under her coat collar before snapping her fingers and miracling herself to a little ghost town in France. 

The place was eerily quiet, though she knew the reason why. The energy that Gabriel released that day had killed every human in the village, and it had collapsed the Gate of Hell beneath. The energy stamp that remained on the land would forever act as a repellant to humans and celestials alike. Nothing was ever built there, no humans ever came to clean up the town. Even animals gave this place a wide berth. It had simply been decaying naturally for the last three and a half centuries. 

The ground beneath her feet was dry, the dust she kicked up clouding in the air before dissipating in the breeze. She had taken only a few steps into the ruins of the town before she felt it- Gabriel's aura. But something was wrong. Very wrong. His aura was chaotic and splintering as she tried to get a hold of it. It took her longer than normal to locate him, simply because his aura kept screaming and retreating in different directions. Her pace quickened as she began to panic. _What if someone found him and they’re hurting him…_

She climbed over a small hill, her breath stopping altogether. 

Gabriel was kneeling on the ground, his claws digging in to the flesh and feathers of his own wings, pulling at them and ripping them apart. With every yank, he cried out from the pain, but he wouldn’t stop- he kept slicing into his wings with his claws, the blood dripping down around him and turning to an ashy mud. 

Beelzebub ran forward on shaking legs, dropping to her knees and colliding with him in a desperate effort to pull his claws away from his wings. He choked on a sob and shoved her away, her hands catching herself on the blood-soaked ground. He stumbled to his feet, his eyes glowing red and his entire body shaking. 

“Get away from me!” he snarled, sobbing again as he looked down at the blood dripping from his claws. 

“Gabriel,” she whimpered, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked over his mangled wings. 

“Don’t! Don’t you _dare!_ ” he shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Why?! Why did you do this Beelzebub? What gives you the right…” he choked, gasping and turning away from her, his shoulders convulsing and sending shivers down his wings. She realized what he meant- _why didn’t you just destroy me?_ She pushed herself up and wiped the dirt and blood from her hands on her pants, anger boiling inside her. 

“Well, Gabriel, I thought that would've been obvious by now. I didn’t destroy you because…” 

“No! Why did you help me? Why did you rescue me from the Pit? You could’ve just let me fall. That’s what I deserved, that’s what God intended. Like Sandalphon said. I’m _damned_. I was stupid to think I could ever be forgiven, and now I’ve put everyone around me in danger. I don’t deserve anyone's mercy anymore, _especially_ not yours. I should be in the Pit, where these wings would be torn apart, like I deserve. I don’t deserve what you've done. I don’t deserve… you.” 

Beelzebub stood frozen, watching Gabriel slowly sink to his knees, his torn and bloody wings drifting into the dirt as he buried his face in his hands. This was not the Gabriel she knew. She had gotten just a glimpse of him, for a moment that night when they were drinking together. He was _laughing_. He was _smiling_. So many times throughout the years she’d wanted to slap that smile off his face, but after she'd seen it falter… she would give anything to have it back. Right now, she'd trade anything to make him okay. She'd pull her own wings off and give them to him if it meant he'd be okay. 

She stepped forward, kneeling next to him and spreading her own wings, covering his and hiding the damage he'd caused. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her, cradling him in her arms and kissing his hair at his temple. 

“Gabriel… I know it’s still hard for you to believe this. Hell, it took me… until I saw you falling to realizzze it myself… even demons deserve mercy. Sandalphon was right. You are damned. But it's not _all_ you are. Because aside from being a demon…” 

She stumbled over her words. This was the first time in her existence that she had ever laid herself bare, and it was terrifying. She tipped his chin up with her fingertips, so she could look him in the eyes. 

“You’re also my friend. I couldn’t destroy you for the same reason I won’t watch you destroy yourself…” 

She felt like there were words that should follow that statement, but she wasn’t ready to say them yet. Gabriel tucked his head against her shoulder, taking a deep, shuddering breath. His wings twitched beneath hers, and her feathers seemed to settle, soothing his broken wings. She spoke quickly, before he could say anything that might shatter the last bit of her composure. 

“And if you _ever_ do anything like that again… leave me like that… I'll hunt you down and discorporate you myself,” she said with a smile, and her heart fluttered at his little chuckle. 

“I’m serious. Crowley and Aziraphale can only keep Heaven and Hell at bay for so long. I need to know that when the time comes… I'll have you by my side. _You_. The you I know and loathe.” 

“Yes, Lord Beelzebub,” he teased, and she blanched. 

“Ugh. Don’t call me that. Call me Beelz.”


	13. Chapter 13

Beelzebub offered her hand to help Gabriel stand, which he took, though he didn’t let go once he was on his feet. Beelzebub glanced down where their hands were linked, feeling a growing panic bubbling from where her own heartbeat pounded in her fingertips. She allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his hand in hers for only a moment, before pulling it away and shaking out her fingers as if she’d grabbed a handful of spider webs. Gabriel chuckled at her, the sound fading into that trademark smile of his. _There’s my Gabriel._ She hid her fondness by ruffling her own messy hair and sniffing. 

Gabriel groaned as he miracled away his wings, rolling his shoulders at the relief it provided. “Alright then, Beelz. I'm with you. Sandalphon… I think I know why he came looking for me. Something I said, before he… before I fell. I told him if I was guilty, then so were all of them. I think… I think he wanted to ensure my silence.” 

Beelzebub considered his words, a growing anger bubbling in her stomach. She knew what Sandalphon had been to Gabriel. As far as she knew, they had always been friends. It was probably why Gabriel jumped to defend him, even after Sandalphon had proven his malicious intent. Even as a demon, it was hard to imagine such heartlessness from someone you thought was your friend. Gabriel didn’t deserve that. 

“Well then… I say we get back to the cottage, and regroup with Crowley and Aziraphale. They both are running reconnaissance at Head Offices.” 

“Isn’t… the cottage compromised? Sandalphon knows where it is…” 

Beelzebub smiled, her eyes flashing red before swirling back to their eerie blue. “Gabriel, I think you forget... I am the Prince of Hell. I _dare_ that sorry excuse for an angel to try anything,” she said with a cheeky grin, Gabriel admiring her smile and reminding her to stop being so content. It was unbecoming of a demon. She wiped the grin off her face and huffed, but Gabriel only chuckled at her again. Oh Satan, was he going to be like that _all the time?_

She folded her wings away and miracled them both back to the cottage, stalking purposely over to the TV and switching it back on. She tapped a finger impatiently over top of it, annoyed by the people on the screen talking and laughing. She hated _waiting_. 

“Beelz, I know patience is not exactly one of your virtues, but there’s really nothing we can do but… wait.” 

Beelzebub continued tapping her finger irritably against the television and chewing her lip. “I don’t like it. I don’t like any of this. What if Heaven and Hell figured them out…” 

“What does it matter? They're impervious, they can’t be touched…” 

Beelzebub froze, the realization sinking in. _He still doesn’t know_. 

She had a moment of panic as her loyalties clashed. As much as she hated to admit it, Crowley and Aziraphale had risked their lives to help her. They had more than made up for the deception they pulled, and she was loath to admit she was actually _worried_ about them. If Gabriel had been felled for his treatment of Aziraphale, what would Heaven do if they discovered this? 

But she wanted to tell him. He deserved to know. 

She stood slowly, completely forgetting the TV and gulping down her own reservations. “Well Gabriel, that’s… not entirely accurate…” she said, her voice faltering towards the end. She couldn’t predict how he would react, and she wouldn’t blame him if he were angry. He fell, in part, for his execution of Aziraphale's punishment. 

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning to the dining table and taking the seat opposite. He squinted in confusion, before sinking into his seat apprehensively. 

“Before I tell you this… I want you to know… I wazzz angry too, when I found out. I didn’t just want to turn them in, I wanted to destroy them myself. But… after… the past few dayzzz events and knowing… what I know now…” 

She swallowed hard as she realized her throat was about ready to close up, her eyes stinging and her chin quivering. Everything she thought she knew about herself… about Gabriel- it had all been shattered rather abruptly over the last few days. She'd had a moment of clarity in that instant when he left her, when she thought she would never see him again. If given the chance, she would’ve done exactly as Aziraphale and Crowley had. She would double cross Heaven and Hell to protect him. 

Gabriel seemed to sense her turmoil, his hand reaching over the table and settling palm up in front of her. She struggled to meet his gaze, but when she did, she felt a sigh of relief escape her lips. The sincerity and warmth in his strange new eyes… it was almost angelic. 

She placed her hand nervously in his, squeezing gently. Time to take the leap. 

“When you sentenced Azzzziraphale to die. It wazzzn’t him. It wazz Crowley. They traded corporations. That’s why the Holy water didn’t destroy Crowley either.” 

Gabriel didn’t appear to react in any discernible way, the only evidence he had even heard her being that his breathing had stopped. He blinked several times, his bottom lip hanging open slightly. Beelzebub's heart hammered louder when he slipped his hand away from her, tucking it into his lap and leaning back in his seat. He stared for painstakingly silent moments, before biting his lip and grinning, his hand running through his hair as he shook his head. 

“That… clever fucking _idiot_ ,” he said, his smile widening. It was equal parts disbelief and actual amusement, and Beelzebub couldn’t help her own nervous grin. It hadn’t been funny when she first found out, but thinking about it now… it was a little funny. 

“How… did we miss that?” Gabriel asked, shaking his head as he watched Beelzebub start to laugh. 

“I don’t know, I guess… no one had ever done it before. It’s insane, right?!” she asked, and he nodded, both of their smiles settling when they really started to think about the implications of something like that. The only natural direction for that train of thought to go was ‘ _would you do that for me?_ ’ and Beelzebub desperately wanted to avoid that question. She reached up beneath her collar and found Moloch there, her jitters settling when she felt the delicate tickle of his legs on her fingertip. 

She froze when Gabriel quietly reached forward, urging the little fly onto his own fingertip. He watched it wander around the back of his hand, his movements quiet and docile so as not to startle Moloch. He smiled as he watched the fly's wings open and close, the light filtering into the cottage shimmering against those wings like an oil slick. 

“You know I've never really stopped to look at a fly. Humans see them as pests so they're often overlooked. Kinda cool little guy, this one,” he said, his eyes never leaving Moloch. Beelzebub felt an overwhelming pride, and struggled to contain her need to blurt useless knowledge about flies. Even so, a little bit slipped out. 

“They are a necessary part of the ecosystem. They feed on decaying matter. Without them, there would only be death. New life could not grow the way it doezzz. They may seem a nuisance to some, but Earth would be Hell without them.” 

Gabriel looked up at her then, his eyes so reverent and admiring that she nearly fell out of her seat. She cleared her throat and shifted a bit, turning to stare _anywhere_ but at those _eyes_. 

“Hm. Never thought of them that way. Guess I overlooked a lot, as an angel,” he said absently, his voice thick with remorse. Beelzebub continued to stare out the French doors of the cottage, her ears still mildly focused on the white noise from the television. The majority of her attention was on her peripheral vision, where she could see Gabriel looking at her in a way he never had before. 

“What was your rank? As an angel?” he asked quietly, and her attention snapped back toward him. 

"No one'zzz ever asked me that before." 

"Well I'm asking you now," he said, arching his eyebrow and awaiting her reply. She didn't really want to reveal that much about her past as an angel, but she knew if she refused to answer he'd probably just pry harder. She sighed, looking away from him and picking at her fingernails nervously. 

"I was a seraph." 

He scoffed in disbelief, then grinned mischievously. "Must've been the tiniest seraph ever created." 

She leaned over the table to smack his arm, but he managed to slip just out of her reach. 

"The smaller the angel, the more badass. Must be why you're so tall," she jabbed with a little grin. 

"Hey, watch it," he warned with absolutely no conviction. 

"Is that why you became the Prince? Because you were a seraph?" 

"Oh no. Rank as an angel hazz no bearing on rank as a demon. You earn your position with Satan." 

"Out of curiosity... how _did_ you become Prince of Hell?" 

Beelzebub grinned wickedly, and Gabriel raised both eyebrows, clearly admiring the sight. 

"Well... it wazzz nothing formal. I guess when the original Prince of Hell tries to call you Princess and you destroy him where he standzzz… Satan tends to take notice." 

Gabriel outright laughed, before his smile faded and his expression changed. "You're one cool little demon. You know that?" 

Beelzebub felt ice rush through her veins. She had only just come to terms with her own feelings toward Gabriel. She wasn’t prepared to have them reciprocated, not like this. She didn’t know how to deal with this- his admiration, the way he was looking at her. _Adoringly._

“I need some air,” she said quickly, standing and storming out the door. 

*** 

Gabriel wasn’t sure how long Beelzebub had been gone, but he was starting to get worried. He paced the living room, suddenly understanding her impatience earlier. He had never been one to _pace_ , but something inside him was just bouncing around erratically, making his muscles itch to move. When there was nothing else to focus on, the creeping sense of dread tended to settle a little too heavily for comfort. It was stupid, but for some reason the little fly buzzing nervously around him was comforting. 

“Erm… Gabriel?” Aziraphale's voice chimed from the television set, Gabriel spinning quickly to face it. 

“Yes! What? I mean, hi… _Aziraphale_ ,” Gabriel emphasized the name, entirely aware that the person he was speaking to was decidedly _not_ Aziraphale. 

“Where’s Beelzebub?” 

“Uh… just stepped out for um… a smoke. What’s up?” 

“Well it's good she found you, I guess, because… I seem to have erm… misplaced Sandalphon.” 

“ _Misplaced_ him? How do you misplace an angel?” Gabriel barked, though he had to check his attitude momentarily. 

“Well he's quite a bit more slippery than I would’ve expected so um… perhaps you'd better find the Prince and… get a wiggle on.” 

“And go where? I don't… have anywhere else to go,” Gabriel said, his shoulders sinking as he admitted to that fact. 

“The bookshop. I'll wait here for Az… _Crowley_ … and erm… we can all reconvene there. It has protections in place. No one gets in or out of the bookshop when it’s locked without A- _MY_ consent.” 

Gabriel grinned, shaking his head as he again wondered how the Heavens he had ever been convinced by their body swap. 

“Alright. Good work. We'll meet at the bookshop. You just focus on getting out of Heaven before they figure out it's you, Crowley,” Gabriel said with a smile, watching Aziraphale’s corporation nearly faint before he clicked off the dial of the television. 

He smiled to himself as he realized he rather enjoyed that- being mischievous. _Maybe this demon thing won’t be so bad after all._

He turned on his heel, his heart jumping up into his chest as he registered the angel standing before him, a large pitcher of crystal clear liquid in his hand as he smiled, all teeth and a few golden caps. 

“Hello, Gabriel.”


	14. Chapter 14

Gabriel jumped back, his eyes fixed on the pitcher in Sandalphon's hand. 

“Whoa, Sandalphon… easy. There's no reason for anything drastic,” he said cautiously, holding his hands out in front of him and backing slowly away, his eyes searching frantically around the cottage for any sign of Beelzebub. He hoped she would just stay away. She had already risked enough for him. As long as she stayed away, she was safe. 

“Actually there _was_. The drastic measure was _supposed_ to be your fall. That was _supposed_ to silence you forever. But you had to go and get your little demon friend involved. Gotta say, none of us saw that one coming.” 

“I didn’t ask for her help, she gave it willingly, which is more than I can say for the angels I _thought_ were my friends. Now leave her out of this, she's done nothing to you. And what… do you mean my fall was supposed to silence me?” he asked slowly, his hands dropping as that nagging sense of dread settled in like a heavy fog. 

“Well I guess there really is no point in keeping it a secret anymore, seeing as how you won’t be around much longer to open your mouth,” Sandalphon sneered, inching closer as his hand tightened around the handle of the pitcher. 

“Michael's the mastermind here, she deserves all the credit, really. She figured out that when Aziraphale somehow wasn’t destroyed by the Hellfire, it must have been direct intervention from God. God didn’t mean for him to be destroyed, and so he wasn’t. Which meant he'd done the right thing all along, trying to avert the Apocalypse. Logically, it was only a matter of time until the Almighty started prying into _our_ actions. We had all subverted the Great Plan, and Aziraphale was the living, breathing proof.” 

Gabriel blinked in confusion, his eyes continuing to dart between Sandalphon and the Holy water in his hand. He wanted to scream at him, to point out the obvious- that it wasn’t an intervention from God, it was a simple deception by a very clever angel and his friend… but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t put them at risk, not after everything they had done to help Beelzebub when no one else would. Everything they'd done for _him_. He swallowed hard and tried to continue calmly, though his throat was dry when he spoke. 

“What does any of that have to do with me?” 

“Well excuse the pun, but you were the perfect fall guy!” Sandalphon jeered, laughing hideously and showing those golden teeth. “You were technically in charge of all of us. We knew if we ratted you out to the Metatron, and said we'd only been following orders from you, maybe they'd punish you and be done with it. If the Almighty started to look in to what we'd done, of course you would’ve been honest with Her. You always were so _annoyingly_ honest when it came to the Almighty. And we couldn’t have that. So to shut you up, we convinced the Metatron to try you for Crimes Against a Celestial. We had the damning evidence, after all- Aziraphale.” 

Gabriel’s heart was pounding as Sandalphon’s words slowly sank in. This shouldn’t be possible, a betrayal of this magnitude. Not from _angels_. 

“The Almighty wouldn’t let that happen. She wouldn't sentence one of her angels to endure this _Hell_ … based on a lie.” 

“Well of course she wouldn’t! She outlawed Falling after she saw what it did to the angels the first time! She never even _knew_ about your trial!” 

Gabriel felt his heart nearly drop out of his ribcage, his blood turning to ice in his veins. “What?” he whispered. 

“Oh come now Gabriel, you can be daft, but you're not stupid. We all know the Metatron hasn’t been in contact with the Almighty in millennia, no one has! It was the Metatron that brought down your sentence. And you know why? Because the Metatron was just as guilty as all of us. Michael is a genius, really. She knew the Metatron was the only one in Heaven with the authority to sentence an angel to fall in God's stead, and she knew _exactly_ how to manipulate them to our advantage. It’s nothing personal, Gabriel. Really, you should be honored. Your final act as an angel was to protect us. Your friends. A true act of selflessness,” Sandalphon said with sickly sweet admiration. 

Gabriel finally found the tap between his brain and his lungs, his breaths returning as he felt true wrath stirring in his soul. Everything he had endured. All this pain. All this doubt. Cast out of the only home he'd ever known and made to feel like a failure. Was because of a _lie_. 

His hands balled into fists and began to shake with the effort of restraining his claws. 

“So you all decided… in the _off chance_ that God decided to punish us for betraying a Plan we didn’t know, the safest course of action was to choose one among you who could take the fall, to cover up what you did? Better for one of us to fall than all of us, and you just… picked _my name out of a hat?_ Like some sick game? Well there’s a giant hole in your plan, Sandalphon. If God outlawed Falling after the first Fall, then you’ve still broken her rules.” 

“We’ve got the Metatron on our side now. _If_ God ever decides to make an appearance, we'll just explain all sweet-like… that we thought an exception was necessary given the… _severity_ of your crimes. You almost helped bring about Armageddon, after all. You _and_ that little pest of a demon.” 

Gabriel closed his eyes and forced out a breath, attempting to calm himself. Even so, he could feel his claws extending and drawing blood from his own palms. 

“You can’t honestly think you can deceive God like that. She'll find you out. Eventually.” 

“And that may yet be true. But with you silenced and Michael's paperwork all neatly wrapped up with a bow, settling the blame squarely on your shoulders… I should think God's inclination will be to erm, _turn the other cheek_ eh?” 

Gabriel flexed his fingers, his claws reaching full extension as he released his wings and focused all his strength into his demonic soul. Sandalphon actually stumbled back, his eyes wide as he beheld the sight. Gabriel was truly horrifying- his mangled wings dripping blood onto the floor as his eyes glowed red, smoke seeping from his mouth as he growled, Hellfire brewing in the back of his throat. 

“If this is what angels are capable of then _I don’t want to be one anymore_ ,” he snarled, his voice deep and echoing with the wrath of Hell. 

“You won’t be much of anything in a moment…” Sandalphon said, glancing down triumphantly at the pitcher of Holy water in his hand. 

What happened in the next instant can only be comprehended with a deeper understanding of the common house fly. A single fly bite is mildly irritating. Thousands of flies swarming around something like a human-shaped hand, all biting at once, is enough to strip away the flesh in a matter of seconds. 

Sandalphon screamed in agony, the pitcher falling from his hand and shattering on the ground as the swarm of flies scattered. Gabriel jumped back to avoid the spray of Holy water, just as a lightning-fast black shadow flew through the doors, slamming Sandalphon into the far wall. Beelzebub snarled in his face, her teeth dropping into points as four more black wings emerged from her back, her aura swirling visibly black and green all over her skin with her rage. Sandalphon shrank away from the sight of her true form, his eyes wide with terror in the shadow of her black Seraphim wings. 

He cowered beneath the Prince of Hell for mere heartbeats before she snapped her razor-edged teeth, his hands desperately clutching at her chest and barely managing to keep her from biting into his throat. He pulled his leg up and kicked, throwing Beelzebub back just far enough to manifest his angelic aura into his fist and drag himself to his feet. 

“Beelz don’t! He'll kill you!” Gabriel shouted, his eyes wide with panic as Beelzebub charged forward, her claws swiping at Sandalphon. He braced his arms in front of himself, blood spraying all around him as her claws swiped at them, tearing through the flesh of his arms but never managing to land any serious blows. He grinned when Beelzebub tired and her arms slowed slightly, seizing the opportunity to close one hand around her throat, his other hand landing with an open palm over her chest. He began pouring his Heavenly energy straight into her heart, her wings beating wildly and her claws clutching at his wrist, a horrific scream escaping her lips as her demonic soul began to wither and die. 

“ _No!_ ” Gabriel screamed as he rushed forward, his claws sinking into both of Sandalphon’s shoulders and hauling him backwards. He threw him across the cottage and into a bookshelf, before turning and scooping Beelzebub into his arms, his voice cracking as he pushed her sweat-soaked hair from her face. “No, no, no, come on Beelz,” he cried, her body entirely lifeless in his arms. He shook her gently, his heart twisting in his chest as he realized she wasn’t breathing, her lips too pale and her pretty blue eyes rolled back into her head. He growled as he pressed a hand over her heart, pouring what was left of his own demonic energy into her, in an attempt to offset whatever Sandalphon had done. It worked, as Beelzebub coughed and choked weakly, her eyelids heavy as she blinked into consciousness. He smiled at her then, her blue eyes the last thing he saw before he lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground. 

Beelzebub crawled over him, her hand on his neck as she gasped. She didn’t have time to assess his condition though, because her attention diverted to Sandalphon, having stumbled to his feet and slumped against a wall, his shoulders and arms covered in deep gashes. He wavered, wiping his mouth with a bloody hand and scowling down his nose when Beelzebub growled at him, Gabriel unconscious in her arms. A single fly flitted around her head, somehow mirroring her growl with its buzzing. 

“This isn’t over, demon. I _will_ destroy Gabriel, you mark my words. I will return with more Holy water, and I'll make sure to destroy you first, so he has to watch you die,” he spat, catching himself on the doorframe and gasping. 

Beelzebub dragged herself up against a dining chair, her breaths ragged from the Holy energy that had very nearly destroyed her. She wanted to rush forward, to finally destroy Sandalphon and be done with it, but her legs shook and her claws retracted without her consent. She was simply too weak. 

Her breath caught when she realized Moloch had charged forward without her, Sandalphon swiping a hand at him as he buzzed angrily around his head. 

“No,” she choked, stumbling forward and collapsing from her own weakness. She could see the vile grin on Sandalphon's face as he followed her line of sight, settling on Moloch where he hovered just above him. 

“Damn disgusting creatures,” he spat, catching Moloch in midair and crushing him in his hand. He dropped the insect's lifeless body to the ground as he sneered, delighting in the sound of Beelzebub's broken scream, just before he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I'm sorry. I hate me right now too.


	15. Chapter 15

Gabriel choked as he rolled onto his side, his limbs feeling weighted and sluggish. He choked against a strange churning in his stomach, his body seeming entirely on the verge of shutting down. His head throbbed and his heartbeat thrummed heavily in his ears, making it hard to focus on anything. The room was spinning and he could barely recall where he'd been or what he was doing. 

Slowly the fog began to dissipate, the memories drifting back into the forefront of his consciousness. He remembered holding Beelzebub in his arms, everything in him screaming at the sight of her so pale and lifeless. He remembered pouring all his strength, every bit of demonic energy he had left into her chest, knowing that if it killed him, then at least he would have done one damned good thing, even as a demon. He remembered everything going dark, the threat of leaving Beelzebub alone and weak in the cottage with Sandalphon tugging at him to just _stay awake._

He gasped and pushed himself frantically up onto his hands and knees, sighing with relief when he found Beelzebub just a few feet away, and no sign of Sandalphon. His relief was short lived, however. 

Beelzebub was crying. 

His heart twisted at the sound. This wasn’t the way he’d seen her cry over the last few days- always swiping the tears away before anyone could see them, sniffing back her emotions and vanishing them where only she knew they existed. This was real heartbreak. 

He stumbled to his feet, trudging to where she knelt, huddled over as her shoulders shook. Her hands were cupped in front of her, cradling the lifeless body of her little fly. 

“He killed him,” she sobbed, finally looking up at Gabriel with tears spilling down her cheeks, the sight nearly stopping his heart entirely. “He killed Moloch. He wazz innocent, he wazz _mine_ and he _killed him!_ ” she cried, her hands closing gently around Moloch and clutching him to her heart, a scream of pure anguish tearing itself from her lungs. Gabriel dropped to his knees and pulled her into his chest, feeling her body shaking with every sob. He kissed her hair and rocked her gently, his hands beginning to tremble from the effort of restraining his own rage. He had only ever seen Beelzebub look truly happy when she was caring for her fly. It brought her the kind of joy that he knew she wasn’t supposed to feel. The kind she would never _allow_ herself to feel. And Sandalphon had taken that one thing and destroyed it. It made his blood boil and his vision blur around the edges. It culminated in the kind of rage that wouldn’t be sated until he sank his claws into Sandalphon and ended him. 

“Beelz I want you to go back to the bookshop and stay there. There’s something I have to do,” he said, Beelzebub pulling out of his grasp, Moloch still clutched against her chest. 

“No. I’m not leaving without you. I won’t. I lost Moloch, I can’t…” her words choked off around a sob and she tucked her head against her closed hands, attempting to hide her pain. 

“I know. But listen to me… when Sandalphon almost smited you… when I almost watched you get destroyed… _God_ it nearly killed me. I need you to go back to the bookshop with Crowley and Aziraphale. I need to know you'll be safe.” 

Beelzebub straightened and sniffed, swallowing hard and attempting to steel her emotions. Even behind the tears that clung to her eyelashes and the redness in her cheeks, there was strength in her blue eyes that made his heart ache. 

“No way in Hell. You say you can’t bear to see me get destroyed. You think it will be any easier for me to watch you go after Sandalphon… and never come back?” she asked, one hand reaching for his and holding on tight. “If you're going after him, I'm coming with you.” 

Gabriel searched her eyes for a long time, eventually cracking a tiny grin. “And if I try and stop you?” 

“I’d say you don’t get to give me orderzzz, I'm your Prince,” she said with a matched grin, her hand squeezing his almost imperceptibly. She released it and stood, her eyes staring down at her hand still clutching Moloch and her grin fading. She turned quietly and shuffled out into the courtyard, the sun hitting the leaves of the garden and making it shine with a green hue. She opened her palm, glancing back when Gabriel emerged and placed a hand comfortingly on her shoulder. She smiled solemnly at him, before breathing a small breath of Hellfire into her hand, Moloch drifting slowly into ash and flying away into the warm breeze. She took one shaky breath in as the last of his ashes disappeared, then set her jaw and turned, miracling all of her regalia that she'd worn to the airbase. She stalked purposefully back into the cottage and found her fly hat still sitting on the dining room table, donning it like a general before battle. She yanked down on her lapel and smoothed her coat as she stepped back out into the courtyard, Gabriel's eyes drifting down and admiring her outfit with an arched eyebrow. 

“We are going to battle, are we not? Seemzzz only fitting,” she said confidently, Gabriel chuckling at her and shaking his head. 

“That it does, my Prince,” he said, snapping his fingers and miracling himself that same suit he'd worn as an angel. 

“Seriously? That suit? Gabriel, no one’zzz ever managed to look demonic in a powder blue suit…” Beelzebub teased, her heart doing a very strange backflip at the debonair smile he flashed her. 

“No one yet,” he drawled, his smile widening as she took her place by his side. 

“Beelz… before we do this… I…” 

“Gabriel if you get sentimental on me now, I'm going to choke you.” 

“Okay, first off, don’t threaten me with a good time. And secondly, just shut up, I'm not getting sentimental I'm stating a fact,” he said, stopping to giggle at the wonderful face journey he'd sent her on with those two statements. 

“Everything I thought I knew… about demons and angels, about… you and me. The Great Plan, even God herself… it’s all been… so _wrong_. I thought Sandalphon and Michael and the rest of them were my friends, but they lied and got me damned. They put me through this _hell_ even though God never intended for me to fall. And you…” he turned to stand directly in front of her, one hand on either side of her neck as his eyes shone with an almost angelic sincerity. 

“You saved me. Not just from the Pit. From myself. In return you lost everything. I know nothing I say can ever make that sacrifice less painful but… I guess what I’m trying to say is… if we die today, I don’t regret any of it. I may not know the stupid Plan but… I know my place now. It's right here. With you.” 

Beelzebub took in a deep breath and held it, releasing it slowly as she closed her eyes. She risked a peek out of one eye when she realized she could feel heat in her cheeks. Was she _blushing?!_

She broke out in a smile as she grabbed him by the throat. “I did say I'd choke you if you got sentimental, you ass.” 

He simply smiled, grabbing her wrist and pulling it gently away, his fingertips lingering and admiring the skin there before he released it. “Are we doing this or what? We don’t have all day,” he said sarcastically, that smug stupid grin plastered on his face as he once again took his place by her side. 

“I hate you.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“Head office?” 

“Yup.” 

“Walking straight through Heaven's front doorzzz?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“We’re probably gonna die.” 

“Probably,” Gabriel smirked, his hand sliding into hers as he glanced over at her, his strength already returning just from her presence. He snapped the fingers of his free hand, miracling them both to the base of a very familiar set of escalators and breathing out a calming breath. 

Beelzebub squeezed his hand before letting it slide out of hers, then took the few meaningful steps to the bottom of the stairs to Heaven. She allowed the sliding handrail to graze beneath her fingertips as she smiled down at it, her eyes drifting up into the bright lights above. “I’ve always wanted to walk up these stairs and see what happenzzz…” she murmured, hearing Gabriel chuckle behind her. 

“By all means, after you,” he said, returning the smile she tossed his direction. 

“You really think it'll be that easy? Just waltzz right in?” 

“Well no, there’s guards up at the top. But… something tells me they won’t stop you,” he quipped, and she smiled, positively _evil._

She perched herself up on the handrail and crossed her legs, riding it to the top, all the while grinning with childlike mischief. As she drifted into view of the two guards, they froze where they stood, though they seemed to overlook her and addressed the fallen angel who lounged just behind her instead. 

“Gabriel… you know you're not welcome here, what is the meaning of… wait, is… is that…” 

The two guards backed away slowly, their eyes widening as they recognized exactly _who_ was perched next to Gabriel on the handrail. 

“Ah, good. I see my reputation precedes me…” Beelzebub said, hopping off the handrail and absently picking her fingernails. She meandered nonchalantly toward them, her grin widening as she saw them continuing their retreat with every step she took, even though both of them had quite a bit of height and several weapons on her. She allowed a bit of Hellfire to brew in her throat as she growled, her claws extending. 

“I don’t have any quarrelzzz with either of you, but I will not hesitate to end you. We’re just here for Sandalphon. He murdered one of God’zzz innocent creatures today, one of _my fliezzz_ , and now he must face the wrath of Hell. So if you'll be so kind azzz to tell us where he izzz, we'll be on our way,” she snarled, the Hellfire bubbling in her throat as she revealed all of her fangs. 

The guards' hands trembled where they clutched their ceremonial spears, and they exchanged a petrified glance before setting down their weapons carefully, their arms raised in surrender. 

“Good choice gentlemen,” Gabriel said, flanking Beelzebub and folding his hands casually behind his back. “Now where is he?” he snarled, his eyes glowing red. 

“Your office. Well, _his_ office now. Erm. Your old office, sir,” one of the guards stuttered, his eyes still darting between Gabriel and Beelzebub in terror. 

“Thank you. See? That wasn’t so hard,” Gabriel said with a smile, patting one of the guard's shoulders and making him jump. “I’m sure God will reward you for your honesty,” he snipped, wiping the smile quickly from his face as he stalked toward his office. Beelzebub remained behind for a moment longer, and spat a puff of Hellfire toward the two angels, smiling devilishly when they squealed and jumped into each others' arms. 

“Come on, Beelz!” Gabriel yelled, Beelzebub sauntering up behind him and glancing around the pristine environment. She simply adored the terrified looks, the slipping of shoes on the floor as angels all around them slid to a halt. Some of them scurried away, likely to inform a higher-up, but neither Beelzebub or Gabriel seemed the slightest bit concerned. 

Gabriel rounded the corner to his old office, the ambient glow illuminating the polished white furniture where Sandalphon stood angrily brooding over a pile of paperwork, the wounds to his arms and shoulders long since healed. 

Gabriel leaned against the doorway, extending his claws and raking them against the door, creating a horrendous screeching noise. Sandalphon's head shot up, his annoyed sneer sinking quickly into disbelieving horror. 

“Sandalphon! Buddy! Got a minute? The Prince and I would like a word.”


	16. Chapter 16

“What the _hell?!_ ” Sandalphon choked, Gabriel stalking quickly around the desk and grabbing him roughly by the shoulder of his coat, yanking and dragging him out into the wide open space of Head Office. He threw him to the ground, the skin of his palms squeaking against the floor when he tried to catch himself. He scrambled to get to his feet, but soon found the heavy foot of the Prince of Hell between his shoulder blades, her strength far greater than her size would suggest. She slammed him roughly against the floor, leaning an elbow down against her knee as she snarled at him. 

“As I have seen, those who plow evil and sow wickedness shall reap it!” Gabriel announced, his voice echoing through the endless corridors of Heaven as he glanced around at the increasingly stunned crowd, before coming to a halt near Sandalphon’s head and folding his hands casually in front of him. He exchanged a glance with Beelzebub, glad to see her dig her heel into Sandalphon’s back and earning a pathetic whimper. 

“Gabriel,” Sandalphon grunted beneath Beelzebub’s shoe, squirming ineffectually against the floor. “If you think either of you are getting out of here alive you are sorely…” 

Beelzebub reached down and grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind his back and making him shout as she leaned her weight harder down against his back. “Oh we're aware. Neither of us expect to live through this. We're just two _very_ pissed off demonzz and we have nothing left to lose because _you_ , Sandalphon, took _everything_ from us. We are prepared to take you down with us in a blazzze of Hellfire, so really, I'd be a little more frightened if I were you,” Beelzebub growled, a demonic hiss slithering past her mouthful of fangs, Sandalphon whining as she twisted his wrist painfully. 

Gabriel paced leisurely around Sandalphon, the crowd of angels backing away in waves, as if he were their own brand of reverse polarized magnet. 

“Now I know probably none of you will believe me. I am, after all, a demon now. But, I gotta tell ya, from personal experience, an angel will stab you in the back a _hell_ of a lot quicker than a demon,” he mused, his self-assured smile only widening when a familiar voice thundered over the crowd. 

“Gabriel!” Michael yelled, pushing through the throng of angels as Uriel followed close on her heels. She jammed to a halt when she reached the edge of the gathering, one hand hovering over her heart in shock when she saw Sandalphon's predicament. 

“Michael! What a pleasant surprise!” Gabriel said with false warmth, stepping quickly forward and relishing in the way all the other angels darted backwards in fear. Every angel except Michael. She stood her ground, her sapphire eyes flickering like the hottest part of a flame. 

“Gabriel, is this really necessary? I know we have to maintain appearances, but I am perfectly capable of having a civilized conversation behind closed doors. Even with a demon,” she spat, her voice hushed as she glanced around at their rapidly expanding audience. 

“Well of course you are!” Gabriel said cheerily, both hands resting on her upper arms and making her frown with disgust. 

“Of course you would want to have this little chat in private. You'd hate to be exposed for what you did…” he backed away, gesturing his arms open to all of the watching angels. “In front of all these angels… wouldn’t you?” he seethed quietly, Michael breaking her cool and glancing around nervously. 

“Gabriel, I'm warning you, if you do this…” 

“If I do what?!” he shouted, his words booming as he stalked around Sandalphon and allowed his eyes to wander over the gathered angels, pleased that their attention was locked solely on him rather than Michael. 

“If I expose you for knowingly, _deliberately_ betraying a direct order from the Almighty?! For condemning an angel to fall, even though She forbade it thousands of years ago?” Gabriel nodded, shaking his finger at the hushed gasps and whispers coming from all around him. 

“Bet you all didn’t know that, did you?! God saw what The Fall did to her angels the first time, and I can only assume She was horrified. Because as gruesome as you think a fall might be, you have _no idea_ …” Gabriel seethed quietly, his eyes brimming with angry tears and his voice breaking from the unencumbered rage that threatened to overtake him. 

“Is _that_ what you'd rather talk about in private, Michael?! That you fabricated my entire trial, manipulated _The Metatron_ into convicting me, all because you needed someone, _anyone_ to take the fall, just in case God ever started prying into _your_ actions during Armageddon. So you'd have this handy little story to tell Her, about how that horrible Archangel Gabriel _made you do it_ and you're just a sweet, innocent angel who had certainly _never_ conspired with Duke Ligur and you deserve a gold star and a promotion for your efforts? Or perhaps you'd rather not discuss how you sanctioned my destruction by Holy water, after you realized I hadn’t fallen into the Pit of Hell like I was supposed to? Because a dead demon is a silent demon? Is _that_ it?” 

Michael had become increasingly unhinged, her hands balling up into fists as the crowd began to murmur and jostle, dozens of eyes prying into her as Gabriel flung accusation after accusation, until finally the angels had started to back away from her, leaving only Uriel to stand by her side. 

“Oh come on, you thick-headed angels, you're not going to believe _a demon_ over your own, are you?!” Uriel shouted, their conviction faltering when they realized the scorn with which many of the angels were eyeing them. 

Michael rolled her eyes, miracling a vintage looking crystal perfume bottle into her hand and storming forward, stopping mere inches away from Gabriel. His eyes darted to the bottle, though he didn’t shy from her in the slightest. 

“Michael,” he warned, arching an eyebrow and standing his ground. 

“I think you know what's in this bottle,” she whispered, her finger hovering over the nozzle. 

"You see that demon back there?” Gabriel said quietly, tipping his head back in the direction of Beelzebub. “That's Beelzebub. She's over there about to rip Sandalphon's arm off because he needlessly killed one of her precious flies. Now you're welcome to destroy me with that cute little spritzer of Holy water, because truthfully, I was prepared to die four days ago. I was under the assumption that destruction would be better than Hell. My only regret... would be that I don't get to see the absolute _devastation_ Beelzebub would rain down on you for killing her best friend." 

Michael swallowed hard, her eyes wandering over to Beelzebub and widening at the toothy, fiery grin she received. Gabriel reached up and covered her hand in his, pushing the perfume bottle away and aiming it at the ground. Michael was trying desperately to hide it, but she had started trembling. 

“Now. If it's all the same to you, I'm going to go help my friend destroy Sandalphon for what he's done, and maybe when we're finished, we'll leave you to face the wrath of God instead of burning you alive like you deserve.” 

“You know I can’t let you do that.” 

“I’m not asking,” Gabriel snarled, unfurling his blackened wings and extending his claws. He breathed an inferno of Hellfire at her, making her dive to the side as she barely managed to avoid it, the bottle of Holy water shattering on the ground. She jumped quickly to her feet, her white wings spreading behind her as she replaced the Holy water with her own flaming sword. Uriel did the same, their stance wide as they took their place by Michael's side. 

“I really didn’t want to do this, Gabriel, but you leave me no choice. Now release Sandalphon or we will be forced to end you!” Michael fumed, her hands tightening around her sword. Gabriel smiled wickedly. 

“Oh yeah? You and what army?” 

Michael gulped, her sword lowering as her eyes darted nervously around, finding her fellow angels departing quietly with the occasional scowl of disdain tossed her way. 

“You cowards!” she shouted at them, her grip on her sword faltering as she searched the crowd for anyone who might still believe in her, and finding only Uriel. 

“Michael, Michael, Michael. You had to know this was coming eventually. I’m just the one who finally brought your true nature to light, so don't shoot The Messenger,” Gabriel cooed. Michael’s face burned red with rage, and she howled as she rushed forward, swinging her sword much more lithely than Gabriel anticipated, the very edge of it slicing across his chest and singeing both skin and cloth. He growled in pain as he thrust his wings forward, their weight managing to throw him backwards just far enough to avoid the second jab of the blade, which would have buried in his heart. He slid back on one knee, his vision blurring as he reached up to touch the wound to his chest, somehow instantly cauterized but still sizzling. He tried to stumble to his feet, but the injury was diverting too much of his demonic energy. He coughed and huffed out a heavy breath, the room beginning to rotate as Michael stalked forward, flourishing the sword out to her side. Uriel mirrored her movements, a smug grin gracing their lips when they saw Gabriel's eyes resigned to their raised weapons, both about to strike. 

Beelzebub landed just in front of him, all six of her wings spread wide and her skin crawling with demonic energy, an unholy roar bellowing from her and shaking the very ground beneath them. She thrust her wings forward _hard_ , emitting a blast of demonic energy and tossing the two angels clear across the floor, their swords scattering to the ground as their backs hit the wall. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, her eyes smoldering. 

“You take care of Sandalphon. I've got these two,” she said, smiling playfully as she stalked forward, cracking her knuckles and shaking out her Seraphim wings. Gabriel took a moment to mentally capture the priceless look of terror on Michael and Uriel's faces as they crab crawled away from Beelzebub, before he turned, scowling when he saw Sandalphon worming away like the slug that he was. 

Gabriel shoved to his feet, wobbling slightly before storming forward, Sandalphon making little whimpers as he tried to scuttle away. 

“Oh no you don't,” Gabriel growled, grabbing him by the back of his coat and tossing him toward the edge of the office, slamming him into what passed for a window, if Heaven was said to have windows. The barrier shattered and melted into an ethereal fog, Sandalphon scampering backwards from the floor's edge and revealing his wings, beating them wildly and sending the nearest clouds into a swirl of mist. Gabriel wrapped an arm around his throat, one claw burying into his wing and yanking it back, his fist closing around the delicate bones beneath, their snapping sounds drowned only by Sandalphon’s screams. Gabriel kicked the back of his knees, forcing him down but keeping his arm around his neck and his claw wrenching his wing. 

“See that? Heaven. The clouds, the light. Perfection. Everything God intended for her angels. Our home. _My home_. The home you took from me…” 

“Gabriel! Come on! You wouldn’t… please, don’t do this...MICHAEL! URIEL! HELP!” 

Gabriel glanced back over his shoulder, chuckling darkly as he watched Beelzebub sauntering toward him, wiping blood from her claws on her sash. Behind her, Michael and Uriel were both crying pitifully, their own swords impaling their wings and pinning them to the walls of Heaven. 

“They can’t help you now, Sandalphon. Perhaps you should have chosen your friends more wisely, when you decided _I_ was the one who had to fall.” 

“Gabriel, you can’t be serious! That… _thing_ is not your friend!” Sandalphon cried, his eyes stealing panicked glances over his shoulder at the approaching Prince as he squirmed in Gabriel's unrelenting chokehold. Beelzebub whisked up to Gabriel's side, her claws burying in Sandalphon's other wing and closing into fists, blood oozing between his white feathers to drip down her arm as she twisted his wing like a snapped twig. He shrieked in pain, the sound choking off as Gabriel tightened his hold on his neck. 

“Oh really? And _you_ are? Tell me, _friend_ , of the two of you… who caught me when I fell, _and who pushed me?_ ” 

“Please, Gabriel, I could… talk to the Metatron, maybe… maybe you could be forgiven! If God never meant for you to fall, maybe… maybe you could be redeemed!” Sandalphon pleaded, and Gabriel froze, his eyes wide and his heart thundering in his chest. His eyes met Beelzebub's, and he swallowed hard when her eyes faded from red to their trademark blue. Her gaze was soft, though her chin quivered as she reached out with her aura, nudging softly against his and trying to convey everything she felt. She wanted to kill Sandalphon more than anything, to seek retribution for Moloch. She wanted Gabriel by her side if she was ever to return to Hell. But she was willing to let go of all of it, if that’s what Gabriel wanted. 

Gabriel turned away, leaning over Sandalphon and breathing a storm of Hellfire out into the clouds, splitting them and revealing the Pit far below. 

“ _Sandalphon_ ,” Gabriel hissed in his ear, grinning as he glanced back at Beelzebub, her eyes lighting up when she felt the pulsing waves of malice emanating from his aura. 

“Shut your stupid mouth… and die already.” 

He released his hold on Sandalphon’s neck, shoving him from the edge of the Tower. Sandalphon beat his wings as he began to fall, but to no avail. They were too torn and broken to support him. He screamed as he fell, the wailing of the Pit below turning to laughter as he disappeared into its depths. 

A soft breeze blew in over the clouds, Gabriel's eyes lost in the distance as an eerie quiet settled over Heaven. Beelzebub shuffled up next to him, her hand slipping into his as she leaned affectionately against his side. 

“I know how hard that was, Gabriel. I’m… I'm proud of you,” she said quietly, glancing over when he took in a deep breath and released it slowly. His eyes remained locked on the cloudy horizon, his hair blowing gently in the breeze. For the first time since his fall he seemed… at peace. Her heart began beating harder until it ached, her eyes drifting out over the clouds. Yes, she wanted him with her. But she also wanted him to be happy. 

“He was right, you know. You… might be the first angel to be forgiven. If God ever realizzzed what happened here. You could… you could go home,” she whispered, her hand tightening around his in the hope it wouldn’t be the last. 

Gabriel let out a breathy chuckle, his eyes dragging away from the horizon to glance down at their hands. He stared at Beelzebub's hand in his for quite a while, his thumb caressing over her knuckles, before his cloudy white eyes met her sky blues. 

“Fuck 'em.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks! This is it! The final chapter!!! (One more curve ball for you, hope you enjoy, lol)  
> I want to send a sincere shout out and heartfelt thank you to the readers who have been along for the journey, reviewing every chapter with all that enthusiasm. I don't write angst that much and this story stressed me the hell out lol. Your encouragement was everything I needed to wake up to in the morning after I stress posted updates before bed. So thank you!!!

Beelzebub placed her hand over the wound to Gabriel's chest, feeling the Holy energy left behind by Michael's flaming sword. She poured her aura into it, mending the muscle and skin and even stitching his suit back to pristine condition. Gabriel glanced down, and before she could pull her hand away, he caught it, bringing it up to his lips and kissing her knuckles. 

“Thanks, Beelz,” he whispered, his eyes sparkling and making her knees nearly buckle. Something in his gaze told her he wasn’t just thanking her for healing him. 

He released her hand, leaving her to try and wrangle her mess of emotions as he sauntered over to where Michael lay sprawled on the floor, her injured wing painting it crimson. 

Gabriel stopped just in front of her, his hands in his pockets as he watched her try to crawl weakly to her knees. She had managed to pull the sword from her wing and free herself, but she hadn’t yet freed Uriel, who leaned heavily against the wall, their blood trickling down and pooling at their feet. 

Michael grunted as she pushed herself up onto her knees, her blue suit coat torn and stained red where four deep claw marks had slashed across her shoulder. She spit blood at Gabriel's feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she glared up at him. 

“You won't get away with this. You can’t just destroy an angel and expect God to ignore it.” 

“I didn’t destroy him, I just threw him in the Pit. Now it’s up to Hell to decide what to do with him,” Gabriel said, tossing a smirk over at Beelzebub. 

“You’re insane. You think the Almighty won’t have noticed any of this by now?” 

“Oh I'm counting on it. Which is why I’m leaving you and Uriel, and the Metatron, wherever they’re currently cowering, to face judgement. Because I do believe God will have noticed by now. And you know what? I think Her justice will be sweeter than anything I could come up with.” 

“And you think she'll believe the word of a filthy demon over me?” 

Gabriel chuckled darkly, crouching down to look Michael in the eyes. He allowed his eyes to flash red as he watched her, relishing the way she flinched away from him. 

“No. But She’ll believe the rest of Heaven over you,” Gabriel whispered, and Michael's eyes flickered around her in fear, finding not a single angel remaining. She had been utterly abandoned. 

Gabriel stood, once again taking Beelzebub's hand in his as they made their way toward the exit. 

“You’re disgusting Gabriel! You and your little insect! You hear me! Holy water is too good for you! I’ll find you in Hell and when I do I will make you _suffer!_ ” Michael yelled, her voice cracking as it echoed through the empty halls of Heaven. 

“Oh I have no doubt I’ll be seeing you in Hell,” Gabriel said, not caring whether Michael could hear him, as he wrapped an arm around Beelzebub's shoulders, pulling her tightly against his side as they stepped out onto the escalator going down. 

*** 

“Well I'll be damned,” Aziraphale said as Gabriel and Beelzebub entered the bookshop, the little bell announcing their arrival. Aziraphale scurried toward them, looking like he might approach Beelzebub for a hug but stopping as he reconsidered it. She smiled bashfully and hugged him anyway. 

“We’re okay. Thanks, angel,” she muttered against his coat, hearing him huff out a breath as he patted her back. 

“I’m so relieved. And what have I told you about calling me _'angel,'_ ” he teased as he pulled away from her, his smile genuinely warming his cheeks. 

“Right. Sorry. _Aardvark,_ ” she jabbed, and he flustered. “Is Sandalphon after you? What’s going on, should we erm… fortify the fortress, or…” 

Beelzebub sniggered at him, a knowing glance tossed Gabriel's way. “No. Everythingzzzz… taken care of. We won’t be bothered from now on,” she said, the conviction in her voice only slightly diminished by the uptick of her lips in that devilish grin. 

“Why do I get the impression you two have gone and done something stupid?” Aziraphale asked reproachfully. 

“Cuzzzz I had the best teacherzzz,” she said, and Aziraphale blushed. He chose not to comment on her remark, instead smoothing his waistcoat righteously, his smile fading as his eyes fell on Gabriel. 

“Ah. Gabriel,” he said, fidgeting nervously as Gabriel surprisingly did the same. Beelzebub was pretty sure she'd never seen Gabriel _fidget_ before. 

“So! Uh… you two… switch back already, or…” Gabriel asked, attempting light-hearted banter and failing miserably. Aziraphale smiled with a hint of mischief. 

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t…” he said with a knowing little smile back at Crowley, which the demon returned all too sarcastically. 

“Yep. They did. I can tell,” Beelzebub said, to which both angel and demon started, looks of shock painting their faces. 

“How on Earth can you tell?” Aziraphale asked, and Beelzebub smiled at Crowley. A real smile, which she hadn’t directed at him… well, ever. 

“Becauzzze you're smiling, Aziraphale. Crowley doezzn’t smile. Or well, he doezz, but usually only when you're yammering on like an idiot,” she joked, and Crowley doubled over laughing. 

“Oh shit, she's got us angel!” he laughed, Aziraphale giggling uncomfortably. It still felt very strange to be so open about the whole body swap business, in front of _Beelzebub and Gabriel._

“Well, since I know it's you, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, taking one momentous step forward and holding out his hand. Aziraphale's smile faded entirely, his eyes fixed on Gabriel's hand. 

“Thank you, Aziraphale. Truly. Thank you for… everything,” Gabriel said, his voice low but painfully honest. Aziraphale glanced up to look him in the eyes, and both seemed to be holding their breath. Beelzebub and Crowley were long past the point of internal screaming. 

Aziraphale took his hand, grasping it firmly as Gabriel shook it once. “Well er… you're welcome Gabriel. But… to be honest I… didn’t do it for you,” Aziraphale said rather curtly, his eyes drifting to Beelzebub. 

“I know. And I… don’t blame you. But I still want to thank you for that. Beelz has… become rather important to me and… I’m glad someone was there when she needed them,” he said with a sad kind of smile, and Aziraphale nodded, shaking Gabriel's hand once more with a bit more conviction, before releasing it. “Well, I _am_ an angel. It’s what we do,” Aziraphale said, his smile only a touch sanctimonious. 

Gabriel shook his head at him, rolling his eyes. He turned and held his hand out to Crowley, whose mouth dropped open as both eyebrows crawled upwards in surprise. His yellow eyes flickered down to Gabriel's hand, before he slowly accepted it. 

“You too, Crowley. I know you uh… didn’t really want to help, given… a certain interaction between us in the past, but… I get it now. You were just protecting your friend. And you did a damn good job.” 

Crowley swallowed hard, nodding shallowly as he shook Gabriel's hand once, then tucked both his hands awkwardly in his pockets and began circling Aziraphale the way he always did when he didn’t know what else to do with his body. 

The bell over the bookshop’s front door rang, Aziraphale’s brow furrowing as he ventured around a book shelf to approach the door. 

“That’s odd, I swear I had locked that…” he muttered. “Can I help you, sir? I’m afraid we're closing early for the evening.” 

“Oh you'll be pleased to hear I'm not here for any books. Though your collection is quite impressive, angel.” 

“I… I'm sorry… what?” Aziraphale stuttered, following the man as he rounded the book shelf, leaning casually against it as he folded a pair of white Versace sunglasses in his hands. He wore a blood red button-up shirt and black waistcoat, pinstripe black pants and Prada shoes. He absently fiddled with a silver Baphomet sigil cufflink, his blue eyes flaming intensely over a set of cheekbones sharp enough to kill a man and frame him for his own murder. 

Beelzebub's throat closed up and her heart stopped entirely. She knew that face. He had only worn it a handful of times, and she'd been there for all of them. She sank immediately to one knee, her head bowed in panicked veneration. “My King,” she whispered. 

Gabriel, Crowley, and Aziraphale stood frozen for a moment until her words sank in, all of them backing quickly away as the man released a sinister chuckle, pushing away from the bookshelf and approaching Beelzebub. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing as her outermost extremities began to tremble. _How had none of them felt his aura?!_

“Beelzebub. My Prince. No need to stand on such ceremony. We are not in Hell, after all. Rise,” he said quietly, Beelzebub following the order almost mechanically, dragging herself to her feet in front of him. Gabriel took one terrified step forward, to stand by her side, but she quickly threw out a wall of energy behind her, making him freeze where he stood. She kept that wall there, blocking any of them from making a move. This situation was far too precarious, and if it came down to it, she would miracle all of them back to the cottage and face her punishment alone. 

Lucifer glanced over her shoulder, eyeing her three companions, before looking down on her with those ferocious blue eyes. 

“Lord Beelzebub, I don’t recall ever receiving a request to venture to Earth, and yet you seem to have abandoned all of your duties without my permission…” he said quietly, Beelzebub looking straight ahead as he once again returned his attention to gently turning one of his cufflinks. 

“All due respect, My Lord, no one hazzz seen you in quite some time. Since… the Antichrist situation. So you'll forgive me for assuming we'd been abandoned. I _had_ been keeping Hell just on the brink of a full-blown riot, and it would’ve been helpful to receive some sort of word from you to keep the demonzzz at bay, but you were too busy brooding,” Beelzebub snapped, immediately regretting her cheek but unable to suck her words back in. Lucifer tilted his head as he considered her, before backing away slightly with another chuckle. 

“Fair point, Beelzebub. I guess I have been… _brooding_. But I’ve had quite a while to think things over and I suppose… I shouldn’t be surprised. Rebelliousness runs in my veins. My progeny… _Adam Young_ … rebelled against me. A tragic irony. For the longest time I was angry. So angry in fact that I considered levelling all of Hell, just to see if Earth would collapse above it. But I think… I think I should be proud. What’s the old phrase? _The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?_ ” 

Beelzebub shivered, feeling Lucifer's aura so strong as he paced lazily around the bookshop that she struggled to stay on her feet. 

“Which brings me to my purpose here. While I've been… _brooding_ … as you so eloquently put it Lord Beelzebub, you've been up to no good! You rescued the Archangel Gabriel from the Pit…” Lucifer drawled, casually strolling up to Gabriel and looking him up and down like a General does to a petrified new recruit. For all the terror that was coursing through him, Gabriel seemed oddly composed. Beelzebub's muscles screamed at her to run to him, to protect him. But just as everyone else in the room, she was frozen. Whether by fear or Satan's will… that was another question. 

“Gabriel. I must admit, I'm impressed. With both of you. It took quite a bit of gall for Beelzebub to do what she did. Honestly, if I had seen what she'd done a week ago I would have destroyed you both for your insolence. But now…” he bit his lip and chuckled, stalking around Gabriel and inspecting him. “You’ve managed to waltz straight through the front doors of Heaven… turn the angels against one another, and then you _tossed an Archangel into the Pit,_ ” he laughed quietly, stopping in front of Gabriel and clapping a hand onto his shoulder with a devilish grin. 

“Seems to me Beelzebub knew what she was doing after all.” 

Gabriel's eyes darted over to her for an instant, still somewhat panicked. 

“Relax, Gabriel. I’m not going to destroy either of you. Actually, I believe a Duke position has opened up recently. Due to an unfortunate incident involving…” he looked straight at Crowley, the demon shrinking behind Aziraphale and averting his serpentine eyes. 

“A former employee. If Beelzebub is going to be ruling Hell for the foreseeable future… she's going to need a second-in-command.” 

Both Beelzebub and Gabriel started, Beelzebub finally breaking free of her rigor and turning toward Lucifer. 

“Lucifer, my Lord… what…” she stuttered, watching as he let his hand slip from Gabriel's shoulder. He turned back toward her, using that hand to smooth his jet black hair into its usual perfection. 

“I've just been thinking… I might spend some time here. On Earth. See what’s so great about it that my rebellious son would refuse all that power… just to save it. But I can’t leave Hell unattended. And seeing as how Beelzebub has recruited one of the most renowned Archangels and gained his loyalty…” Lucifer turned back toward him, offering a hand and arching an eyebrow with a mischievous grin. 

“ _Duke_ Gabriel. Fancy a job?” 

Gabriel considered him, his hand reaching out instead for Beelzebub. She approached and slid her hand in his, a grin of her own directed up at him as she tucked herself rightfully by his side. 

“Working side by side with this one?” Gabriel asked, looking fondly down at her. “Sounds terrible. I accept.” 

Lucifer sealed the deal with a handshake, Gabriel's wings appearing and healing instantly, the broken bones righting themselves as his obsidian feathers appeared in all their splendor, lush and shining with an ultraviolet sheen. Gabriel shook them out once, before allowing Beelzebub's hand to caress through the longest primaries, out of Lucifer's view. She sighed, the softness of them providing the same comfort as Moloch's familiar buzzing once had. 

“Oh by the way! You two!” Lucifer barked, pointing a pair of finger guns at Crowley and Aziraphale, both of them motioning at themselves questioningly as their mouths hung open. 

“That giant 'fuck you' you tossed to your superiors? Hilarious. Really. Asking for a rubber duck in a bath of Holy water? Bloody brilliant. How you managed not to get beaten to death by my Prince, I'll never know, but kudos to you both. I'll be laughing about that for centuries.” 

They both flustered, Aziraphale blushing and Crowley tripping audibly, the way he always did when his words seemed to claw at his throat, refusing to be uttered. 

“Uhhhhh, thank you, my Lord,” was all he was able to manage. 

Lucifer smiled and winked, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes as he made his way to the exit. “Now if you'll excuse me, I'm meeting a very old friend for coffee and She told me to be there promptly at 3 o'clock. She was quite cross with me last time I didn’t do what I was told.” 

Three demons and an angel exchanged a look of equal horror and shock, before Lucifer tapped the little bell over the door with a fingertip, making it ring pleasantly as he swung the door open. 

“Ciao,” he bade them all, before closing the door and vanishing into the bustle of SoHo. 

No one spoke for an alarmingly long time, all of them too stunned to move a muscle. 

“Did that just happen?” Crowley finally asked, followed by breathless laughter all around. 

“You guys don’t think he was talking about… that he was meeting with… do you?” Gabriel stammered, all of them shaking their heads and muttering. “No, can’t be.” “Not possible.” “They’re… enemies.” 

Another very painful silence, punctuated only by a ticking grandfather clock somewhere in the bookshop. 

Aziraphale straightened first, checking his pocketwatch. 

“Well, I suppose you two have important duties to be getting along. Probably wanting to go home, I expect, Beelzebub.” 

“Yes,” Beelzebub nodded, bouncing awkwardly on her heels and avoiding meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. She wanted to pour out everything she'd felt over the last few days- gratitude, humility, comfort, _companionship_. The likes of which she didn’t think she’d felt since before the Fall. But she didn’t even know where to begin. It didn’t seem like words existed in any language, dead or alive, that were good enough. 

“You probably don’t have to go _just_ yet,” Crowley said, sauntering up to Aziraphale’s side and eyeing him mischievously. “I believe a table for four just miraculously opened up at the Ritz and I'm dying to know what the hell you two got up to in Heaven…” 

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale said, directing a hopeful smile at his two new friends. 

“Care to join us for some lunch?”


End file.
